


The Siren Song of Love

by DungeonQueering



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Butch/Femme, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/F, Getting Together, Kissing, Love, Magic, POV First Person, Pining, Pirates, Romance, Soft Butch/Hard Femme, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DungeonQueering/pseuds/DungeonQueering
Summary: Adapted from an unfinished Dungeons and Dragons campaign, this story follows the Pirate Captain Scarlet and the Carpenter and Artificer Althaea in a time where the triangular region of islands, known as the Shackles, is blocked on three sides. The nation of Rahadoum to the north and Vidrian to the South are at war, and The Shackles are caught in the middle. Their only access to the mainland is cut off by an ancient and massive wall, built by a long dead civilization. To survive, the people of the Shackles resorted to what they're best at: Piracy.
Relationships: Althaea & Shandri, Althaea & Tana, Althaea/Scarlet, OC/OC
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. The Siren's Song

**Author's Note:**

> Due to a mix of current events, life events, and a new jewelry business I've started, I have less time than ever to write. This fic is not dead, however. I am 100% committed to writing this to completion, and it's only about a quarter of the way in. (I say that now, but the amount of story I've covered has taken about twice as many chapters as I thought it would, so who knows.) Even better, I know what happens for the next several chapters, it's just a matter of having time to write it. With that said, it may be a little while before I have time to write more, though I think about it often. I appreciate every single person who has read this, and I am glad to talk about this fic through any platform on which you know how to reach me. Stay safe, Stay Healthy, Wear the mask, and wash your hands.  
> (5/10/2020)

Of course it had to be sirens to take my life. It was fitting, given that I’d served for a few years now aboard a ship named for that very creature’s most dangerous quality. I hadn't been the only crew member who fell victim to the siren's call, of course. I hadn't even been the only woman. I _had_ , however, been the only one who was closer to the edge of the ship than an unaffected crew member who could stop me from throwing myself into the sea. As a result, I was the only one who went overboard. The crew of our ship was trained for this sort of thing, and they were all ready. They were always ready, for any possible foe. One must be in this line of work. I, however, am never ready for this specific threat. I am not usually above deck for such an encounter, either because I've found an excuse to be below or because my work has genuinely taken me there. So, even when I have fallen under the effects of such a song before, I needn't worry, as I'm able to either lock myself away, or I simply can't hear them over the shouting and cannon fire. 

As I fell into the water, though, all I could think about was My Captain. This was often the case, and it shouldn’t have struck me as odd that she was on my mind when I was certain to die. After all, it was due to her interference that I was able to work on her ship, _The Siren’s Song_ at all. And why would I not, given that she had saved my life? I felt as if I must at least repay that debt. At least, that was the case at first. There was no sense in lying to myself any longer: I had stayed on the ship to be near The Captain. In my position, you would do the same. Anyone would, I think. How could they not? She was so bold, strong, clever, charming, and more. Those under her followed her gladly, which is crucial on a ship wherein bad leadership can cause mutiny at near any moment. 

Of course, most who lived in The Shackles could swim, including myself. It’s a crucial skill for life at sea. So it was not drowning that would end my life here, at least not directly. Even those who never left their islands, or even the few who lived on our side of the mainland, that is to say on our side of an ancient wall constructed centuries prior, all depended on the sea for life. It was, and continues to be, the source of our food and our resources. This was, of course, not always the case. It was different before the war. At that time, the pirates of the Shackles were notorious for leaving their territory to raid along the northern and southern coasts, wreaking havoc for all the Inner Sea region. Unfortunate for those of us living there now, we were blocked in on all sides, three different enemies forming a lethal triangle attempting to strangle the Shackles till we, too, fell to the brutal sea. We were of sterner stuff, as they say. Far more important than that, though, was our spite. 

Living in the Shackles at this pivotal time in history was, obviously, more lethal than ever. It had, however, done us some good. Well, I say ‘Us’ but I had not yet been born when these decisions were made. Thirty years before I was born, which is to say eighty years ago, a group of pirates and brigands, scum and villains, came together for the first time in what must have been centuries before. Amongst them were elected Six, and with votes from the masses and guidance from these six, a hierarchy was established. A system of governance unlike any in the world. It was a society of the utmost freedom, allowing each island and city to establish its own laws, with very few laws applying to the whole of the Shackles. 

These Six were given the rank of Dread Pirate, a more frightening title than it need be. Under them would serve Pirate Lords, and under them would be ordinary admirals and captains. These ranks ultimately meant little in the day-to-day struggles of living in the Shackles, but when a Lord spoke, their word was regarded highly. These titles are primarily earned, and even the Dread Pirates must be approved by a vote of Lords and above to have authority over citizens of the Shackles. 

This ranking matters mostly in this moment in that I saw it as no small thing that My Captain, a Lord in her own right, saw fit to save my life yet again. The sirens approached me, faster than I could ever swim. First I raised a hand, attempting to freeze the water around me. If I could climb on top of the ice, the sirens would be unable to follow, and I would have a few minutes for the ship to pull around and toss me a rope. Nothing happened. I remembered that I had, not expecting a fight today, expended all my magical capabilities on more utility oriented spells throughout the day. Enchanting ammunition and weapons, creating everburning torches, and so on. 

The sirens grew nearer, moving through the water with incredible speed. At this distance I could see the beast’s features, her mouth covered in blood, her teeth the shape of daggers. I attempted to draw my sword, though I was less proficient with it than my magic. It took far too long in the water, and so the Siren collided with me. She raked at me with her bloodied claws, and I raised a bracer, knowing the leather would be destroyed, but would buy me precious moments. Fighting back felt useless, but I was never the kind to give up. Devoid of any weapons, at least any that I could get to now, I had to fight back with my hands. I shoved my palm up against her forehead, mentally noting how horrifying it was that these beasts looked near-human despite not having near-human intelligence. This kept her from biting me, which would have certainly signaled my death as she dragged me downwards. There was a loud report and a small splash right against the Siren’s back. She screamed and dove, letting go of me. She would be back in moments, though. 

I swiveled around to locate the source of the gunshot, and saw My Captain, tossing a rifle down onto the deck as she issued commands. She threw off her red coat, which would weigh her down significantly were it to get thoroughly wet, as well as her hat and bandolier. She drew her sword and dove into the water. I didn’t hear what she said, but the crew was acting quickly. Several loud screams echoed from behind me, so I looked back yet again to see the rest of the sirens speeding towards me. Shit. 

This time I drew my sword. As best as I could, I tried to swim back towards the _Song_. Now that The Captain was coming, my chances were much improved. She didn’t have any magical abilities beyond those all drow had, but if she was coming for me, I believed I would live. After all, she had saved me once before, and we were far more outnumbered then. She shouted my name as she drew near, just in time for us to lock hands, so the sirens couldn’t rip us apart, and readied our blades. She ran the first one to approach through, and while she kicked that beast off her blade, a very difficult move in the water, I slashed to keep more of them at bay. 

A shadow loomed over us, and I spared a quarter-glance back. Our ship was swiveling around, and the Quartermaster was readying a weighted rope. Others were standing at the edge, but I didn’t have time to see what they were doing. It became obvious a few moments later when a volley of gunfire a few feet away from us slowed the incoming siren’s. The Captain tugged on my hand then let go. I followed her lead as we swam towards the rope which the Quartermaster, a dwarven man named Oswallt, tossed down at us. I was only five feet away when disaster struck. 

The first siren, the one that The Captain had scared away with a shot to the ribs, struck from below. I had known it would only be a matter of time before it returned, but there had been hope we would reach the rope before it got to me. It’s powerful jaws clamped down on my extended right arm, and I heard a sickening crunch before every other sound was drowned out by my own scream. 

* * *

Two years and some months before my up-close encounter with sirens, I met a siren of a different sort. By this I mean that her song -- or more accurately her voice, words, and actions -- led me to throw myself into the sea, though more metaphorically (if only slightly so). I am, of course, speaking of My Captain, and her rescue of me. 

At this time, I lived in the town of Drenchport, on the isle of Tempest Cay. The island, and city, receive their names from the near perpetual storms they receive from the Eye of Abendego, a perpetual hurricane to the north of the Shackles. I’d never seen it directly, but had heard from tales of the yearly Free Captain’s Regatta that it was at least a few hundred miles across. Winds, even a few miles into the Eye, were supposedly enough to tear most ships to shreds, and no one has ever ventured further and returned, at least not that I’d heard of. Most of my interaction with the Eye had been from the aforementioned perpetual storms, as it nearly always rained in Drenchport, and in the occasional smaller storm that branched off and rocked our town. 

Fortunately, our town was primarily made of driftwood, broken ships, and other scavenged materials anyway. Even more fortunately (at least by my reckoning) is that I was an apprentice to one of the best carpenters in Drenchport, if not the best. While carpentry was her main skill, she did also teach me how to make repairs with and on other materials, going so far as to have me spend a few weeks with a blacksmith she knew. She, like most of the people in Drenchport, was human. Despite the town’s locale and inherent danger, it was of a fairly sizeable population. Being one of the few elves in town, and considering my position, most everyone knew who I was. It didn’t help that my hobbies were occasionally… Destructive. 

An ancestor of mine, though I am not sure how many generations past, consorted with a being of some degree of power. It was not yet clear to me what sort of being that was, but that is part of what I sought to learn by practicing the innate magics granted to me-- be that by lineage, pact, or other magical means. For this, I didn’t have a teacher, and so I simply climbed a hill that lead just outside of town, and saw what magical effects I could conjure. I was fairly proficient for one who was self-taught, though I did wish I could abandon my duties to the town in favor of tutelage under one of the town’s mages. 

It was after an early morning practice session, before my work began, that events transpired which ultimately led to my meeting My Captain. It’s almost odd to think there was a time she ever wasn’t such, even though roughly forty-seven of my years were spent without her. Indeed, I trained under Shandri for thirty years before finally I left her, though more by lack of choice than anything else. 

I approached Shandri’s workshop from the hill, and was glad to see the interior lights had been uncovered. Before I’d become her student, she used candles and lanterns indoors, a dangerous practice for a carpentry workshop even in a town that was perpetually soaked. I had, during a particularly successful solo practice session, managed to make a few sunrods. We simply covered them at night, and uncovered them in the morning, so that we would always be able to see our work regardless of cloud cover. 

I opened the door and slipped inside, taking my coat off and hanging it to dry on one of the many hooks that nearly every building in this city has. I shook myself dry, at least as dry as possible, and stopped. There were now three coats counting mine, which meant Shandri had a visitor. Visitors first thing in the morning either meant business, bad news, or both. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the main floor of our workshop. Standing next to Shandri’s wall of hanging tools was the Master of the Gales. That’s what he was officially known as, since he didn’t seem keen on sharing his actual name. I think he’d given it up years prior during a solo quest into the sea. He’d had a fair tenure as a proper pirate, which is to say acquiring supplies from the Rahadoumi ships to the northwest and the Vidric ships to the south. After he grew too old to comfortably sail, he became the leader of Drenchport and retired here. A worthy man to lead such a city. 

He was an interesting man, older, with a long graying beard. He carried a staff that was both walking stick and magic implement. Gales, as we called him for short, had a considerable mastery over elemental magics and, according to rumor, an animal companion in the form of a giant tentacled beast. He primarily wore gray-ish leathers, treated specifically such that water would slide right off (nothing is worse than wearing absolutely soaking leather). He was of a lighter skin tone, though his skin looked worn and rough from both age and use. The thing that told me this was both business and bad news, however, was that he carried his sword, slung across the low of his back. There would be battle that day, for if Gales suspected it, I had no reason to doubt it would become true. 

Shandri smiled at me, and for the first time I noticed her age, her umber skin was wrinkled, and softer than it had any right to be given her profession. It was true that I had studied under her for two decades, but never did it occur to me that she would grow old, and even pass, long before I would. Mentally, I cursed the gods that chose not to extend the same longevity possessed by elves to humans. There wasn’t time, however, to mourn a passing that was still, hopefully, a few decades away. 

I forced a smile back at her. Shandri had her hand on Gales’ shoulder, and extended her other hand to me. “Althaea, it looks like we are going to have a… very busy day.” Her face may have worn a smile, but her tone of voice was filled with sadness. She felt strongly for the losses that would be. 

“What’s going on?” I didn’t want to waste time on pleasantries. It sounded like time was going to be critical, and so I wanted as much information as possible as quickly as possible. 

Gales sighed. “The Rahadoumi fancy Drenchport as a place to stage further incursion. They figure that, if they can move deeper into the Shackles, they can run the Vidric blockade and end their war. I know you haven’t been to war, but I assure you that occupation is… Not an option.” Curt, to the point, and much appreciated. 

Shandri looked at me and dropped her smile. “We have a few hours lead time, we need to get as ready as we can to make repairs. There’s no way to know how many ships they’re willing to dedicate to this. Ideally, we can throw together some simple defensive walls, and forcibly push them along a specific route in the city.” 

That sounded like an effective plan, and certainly one we could manage with a few hours. It didn’t have to look nice, we just needed a wall that was easier to go around than through. Several of them. Fortunately for us, Drenchport was already set up to wind up the hill from the considerably sized port at the bottom. About half-way up the hill was the highest point of the city proper, and the top was where I practiced magic. 

I didn’t respond, I simply moved to my work station and started grabbing scrap wood. Gales, clearly meaning to address Shandri but being loud enough about it that I could hear, gave his farewell and made note that he had to go make plans with the captain that brought us the news. With that, Shandri and I were alone. Our usual working banter was gone as the sounds of hammers on nails filled the workshop at a far more rapid and far less precise pace than our usual work. 

* * *

What happened after the siren broke my arm is a blur, but I will attempt my best recollection of it. Firstly, The Captain cut the beast across the neck just as it started to drag me downward. Of course, the water slowed her swing, but it was enough to get the creature to release me. Second, She wrapped her arm around my waist and held the rope in the other. Third, the crew pulled us back aboard the ship. I attempted to throw my arms around the captain, still not thinking clearly about my injury. One arm cooperated, the other shot severe pain through my whole torso, and it felt as if I had stuck my arm into a lit brazier, and I called out accordingly. 

Still, despite this, I felt a small degree of hopeful. She had cared enough to risk her own life to save me yet again. While I don’t doubt she would do so for most of the crew, it still filled me with a foolish and naive hope that it reflected unspoken feelings she had for me. I’m certain that the way I looked at her, high on adrenaline, gave away my hand. She offered the smallest of smiles and leaned away from where I had one-armed hugged her, and she placed a single finger on my lips. 

“Don't worry, we’ll talk later.” My heart skipped a beat. She waved over another crew member, the cook, and bid her to find a place to lay me down gently. My mind was still circling, of all things, on my self-acknowledgement of my feelings for The Captain. What would we talk about? My injury? Or could she see it in my eyes? Maybe she felt the same way. It was that thought that gave me a realization. The Siren’s song didn’t affect her. Sirens are somewhat misunderstood creatures, I had learned from The Captain herself when we had accepted the job to wipe out this nest. Sirens were fey beings, that had been intentionally twisted in (or possibly even by) the feywilds from which they originated. Sailors of old believed their song only affected men, but the truth is that it affected all those who could be attracted to the apparent gender of a given siren. This particular nest happened to appear as women, so when they sang over the edge I went. This also didn’t bode well, because particularly savvy individuals could resist the siren’s call. This is what I wondered about My Captain. Did she resist, or was she immune to begin with. Was she attracted to women and subsequently, to me? 

The cook --a tall and strong human woman by the name of Tana with pale skin, ear-length red hair, and cool brown eyes-- half-carried me into the ship. The last thing I noticed above deck was other crew members firing shot and spells alike into the waters to fend off the sirens before we circled back for a proper assault. Below, I was laid on a bed of hay, and Tana fetched another member of the crew to keep me still as she did her best to stop the bleeding. As she did, I braved a look at my arm for the first time. I did not look for long. So far as I could tell it was absolutely mangled. My flesh was torn and jagged, and my bones had been broken at least on either side of the siren’s jaw. I tried my best not to thrash as Tana tried to bandage me up. If we had a cleric aboard the ship, with just a word and a hand wave I would be back to normal albeit likely with a scar depending on the skill of the caster. Being that we didn’t have one, as priests were hard to come by in a place like the Shackles, I was going to need weeks --and likely some traditional medical intervention-- to avoid infection and heal. Tana did her best, and gave me something for the pain. That was all that could be done for now. 

The Captain’s policy, unfortunately, was that we shouldn’t be put in further risk if we have a chance of healing. Since we didn’t have a cleric at this time, that meant shore leave. Knowing I could be away from the Captain, from my brothers and sisters at arms, from my home on the sea… It felt as if it were too much to bear. I knew I would survive, of course. Just the year prior, Tana spent time in a port town recovering from some broken ribs acquired when one of the beasts we were hired to slay threw her against the mast. 

I almost wished I had lost the arm, so I could be patched up and I could stay aboard, but it was my good arm. I would have to relearn how to swing a hammer with my off hand, and most of the tasks I did on the ship required two hands. Knowing that I needed to heal properly, without further risk of injury, was the only thing keeping me from begging the Captain to keep me aboard. After all, injury was common in this line of work, which is to say the eclectic mixture of adventuring and jobs our crew took up. In fact, Tana herself had a prosthetic leg from mid-thigh down. Some days I could see that it still pained her, but it did not slow her down. 

I spent the next few hours delirious, simply listening to the sound of gunfire, shouting, the occasional fireball or magic missile. When it was quiet, I listened to the sea, which was a constant source of comfort, even when it was full of malice. Tana came to check on me periodically. She offered me more of whatever she gave me for the pain, but I declined. I wanted to be able to think and talk for a little while. She was displeased when I told her I wanted to try to move around, but she changed my bandages and put my arm in a sling. I worked on moving slowly, making sure each movement wouldn’t send bolts of pain through my arm. Eventually, with help, I was able to stand. 

“Tana, what’s happened above deck?” It would be best to go above knowing what I was getting into, I thought. 

She smirked judgingly, but answered anyway. “They managed to wipe out the nest. It wasn’t where we expected it to be, by about a half mile. Long enough that we were caught off guard. No one else was injured, thankfully. Those who could fight gave cover to those who could not resist, so they could get below. I believe they’re doing rounds, checking injuries, and cleaning up while the captain and Pursuit map a new course. Fortunately,” she glances at my arm, “There was no hull damage to need repairing.” 

“Thanks, Tana.” I put my hand, the left one, on her shoulder for a moment before moving on. I head up the small staircase to the main deck. It’s exactly like Tana said, not that I thought she was lying. Various members of the crew were sweeping the deck, adjusting the rigging, checking weapons, and so on. I walked all the way across, slowly, towards the captain’s deck. There were a few sympathetic murmurs, but they could tell I was in no mood to talk about it, and I was thankful for their silence. 

I paused just outside the captain’s door at the aft of the ship, hand held up and ready to knock. She had a small cabin space, the only member of the crew to have that much privacy. It was flanked on either side by a staircase that lead to the helm. There was a window to the left of the door, though it was far too opaque to see anything of use through. It mostly let in light, and served to make the cabin feel more approachable. Nervously, I knocked. 

I was met with a nonspecific “Come in!” and did so. The door creaked lightly as I opened it and I made a note to oil the hinges later. Inside, there were a few thin bookshelves to the left in the space under the exterior stairs. To the left of those was a series of small shelves holding trinkets and knick-knacks gathered from years of adventure. While looking at them I noticed I had a slight headache, but it would pass soon. Against the back wall, there was a large glass window, with stained glass along the edges to allow both natural and filtered light into the room. The bottom of the window was only a few inches above the top of The Captain’s bed. Against the wall left of the Captain’s bed were a wardrobe and some weapon racks. Immediately to my left, there was a moderately sized desk, pressed up against the wall in the corner next to the window that faced out onto the deck. Currently, it was covered in maps, and The Captain and Pursuit were standing over it plotting a course. 

It seemed as if they were about finishing up, and Pursuit wrapped up one of the maps and moved past me to exit the room, ducking so his horns didn’t catch on the frame. Our course would be adjusted a few minutes later, I was sure. 

I turned to look at My Captain, who was pouring two glasses of some liquor or another. She forced a smile and offered me one. I realized I had frozen in place, like a nymph caught dancing. Instinctively, I snapped to attention, but I tried to raise my main arm in greeting. The injured one. I cried out in pain, which passed a moment later. I looked up at the captain and grinned, like an idiot who knew she’d been caught. She smiled, and let out a small chuckle. Her deep, sultry voice sent shivers up my spine. How had I hidden my feelings for so long? Merely a moment's weakness and it was as if I'd unraveled. 

Admittedly, I was still hopeful. The captain looked at me differently then. It had only been a few hours, but I could tell that things were different between us. I felt as if my heart could explode just from not knowing where we stood. From not knowing if my feelings for her were going to be a problem. Even if she did feel the same way, even if she did love me, what if that put the rest of the crew at risk? If she had to choose me or someone else to save, a moment's hesitation could prove fatal. Was she willing to take the risk that such a situation could arise? By the gods of the sea, I prayed so. 

Whatever was in the glass she’d given me smelled strongly of cinnamon and apples, and I thought about how it was the first actual glass I'd held in a few weeks. Mostly, I just used a tin mug. I thanked her for the drink and wished that there was a second chair near her desk that I could take. 

"That's the third time you've thanked me." She smiled. 

"Oh, well-", she cut me off. 

"Don't." She finished her glass and set it down next to the unlabeled bottle. "You don't need to apologize." The sea is quiet, but I could still see in the bottle that we were swaying gently. This fact would be visible out of the rear windows of her cabin, right above her bed, were it not pitch dark outside. "You could have told me at any time." She smiled in a way that is both gentle and harsh. 

My mind was racing, considering what the crew may say, what The Captain may say, what I should say. Still, I needed to say something, so I mustered what focus I could, knowing I must look a fool. "I was afraid it could be a problem, Captain. That I would--" 

She sighed, and held up a finger, stopping me. "Many of the crew are... Entwined romantically. You attended Robert and Bill's wedding but a few months ago, which I officiated. I had assumed that you were either too dedicated to your work to make time for romance, uninterested in those I'd seen you meet, or otherwise not like to pursue romantic or sexual relations at all. And yet, the siren's song pulled you from performing your favorite task on this vessel; watching me command." 

My face flushed, certainly obviously so, and I opened my mouth to speak, but found nothing to say in defense of myself. It was true, The Captain was my entire reason for being here. For being anywhere, really. And while I greatly enjoyed tinkering with our armaments, armor, tools, and other feats of engineering, I would be quite employable anywhere on land. She knew why I was here, apparently. 

She continued, "I had taken it, for a time, as admiration. I knew you felt indebted to me for bringing you aboard, for bringing you into life on the sea. But the way you looked at me when we got back onto the ship… No one looks at someone else like that unless..." She stopped. The Captain reached over and filled her glass again, this time only half as much as her first glass. She took but a sip before she spoke. "I would be surprised if no one else saw it too. I admit, I am... When people look at me, it is with fear, admiration, respect, friendship, and more. But I am not an easy person to know deeply. You likely know more about me than most aboard this ship, even those I've served with longer, merely because of the circumstances under which we met. And yet, you didn't look at me this way then." She shifted closer to me, and I instinctively leaned away. 

I was still unsure of where she was going with this, what this was supposed to mean. My place on the crew was up in the air. Taking a drink to steel myself , I replied. "Captain, I..." I looked around for a moment. "Your suspicions of me are correct. But I had no plans to act on my feelings for you. I wish to leave our working relationship undamaged, and if that--" she cut me off again. 

"You can call me by my name. We are well beyond formalities, and even if they were still going to be appropriate between us, this is an informal conversation." The Captain seemed to think for a moment before adding, “I apologize for interrupting you, I’m… Nervous.” She lifted herself slowly, halfway off the desk, leaning up towards me till we were inches apart. "My concern is not that you have feelings for me, dear. It is that I don't want my position of authority to...." She paused, and her eyes, which had been locked on mine, flicked down for just a moment. I thought she was going to kiss me, an idea that I would have been far more than OK with, but instead she slumped back down. 

I couldn’t help but stare directly at her. She had taken her usual hat and bandana off, which were sitting on the corner of her bed. Her long off-white hair, tinged with gray, was hanging down loosely. Her long crimson coat was hanging on a hook on the exterior of her wardrobe, showing more of the white loose fitting blouse she wore underneath. Her hands were shaped as if to be delicate, but they were covered in thin white scars and I knew them to be strong. Though her blouse was loose, it was plain to see that she was shapely. Her face was long, as was common for drow, and her features were angular. Though it was difficult to tell with her seated as she was, I knew her to stand several inches taller than I did. Her obsidian skin looked surprisingly soft, and her lips were full. She wore jewelry --which I knew to be white gold and not silver-- in the form of rings, necklaces, and several earrings running the length of her ears. The Captain’s most striking feature, however, were her piercing eyes. While most drow had red eyes, her scarlet eyes seemed to glow slightly when you looked at them, as if she had a form of bioluminescence. 

She seemed to think for a while before speaking, and gods knew I was in no shape to say anything intelligible, my mind still firmly stuck on the idea of My Captain pressing her lips to mine. Finally, mercifully, she said something. "I dislike pretense, Althaea, and while I am good at discussing things without saying them outright, I have had exactly enough liquor to be blunt and honest with you without losing any capacity for thought. So, let me say this clearly." She shot back the rest of her drink and set the glass down upside down. I had only just finished mine and sat it down tenderly. 

She spent a moment collecting herself, and I could almost see the variations on the next few sentences she was running through. "I know that you have feelings for me. I, too, have feelings for you. This is rare for me, admittedly. However, I am your captain, and I do not wish to risk using, intentionally or unintentionally my position of authority to coerce you in any way. So, now we must decide what to do about it. About our feelings.” 

For a time, I was somewhere else. Or at least, I was reminiscing on the time I first realized I loved the Captain in a romantic way. She was secretive about her past and what little personal life she allowed herself to have, but her personality shines nearly all the time. So it was when, like many days both before and after, we sat around a lit brazier, holding mugs of ale, telling raucous stories. We enacted a trial against the quartermaster, convicting him of his many crimes and pretending to force him overboard. This was followed by a memorial service, where Oswallt played the priest at his own funeral. We all laughed, some of us till tears streamed down our faces and we couldn’t speak anymore. We shared stories of battles, tales handed down from our families, misadventures we’d taken part in during shore leave, and more. It was during all of this that my eyes fell on My Captain. Her brightly colored unnatural eyes seemed to glow in the night. Her whole face was lit up with a smile. I noticed how she didn’t smile just with her mouth, but truly all of her features. What truly did it, though, was her laugh. By the gods, her laugh! 

In that moment, I was so transfixed I couldn’t look away, but she was too busy telling Tana about the time she’d caught a group of harpies by replacing the sail with a net and traveling only under rowing power to notice me staring. It was that moment that I realized I loved her, though it had likely been true for some time. Of course, I had known for a little under three decades that I was only interested in women, but I hadn’t pursued any relationships in the few years I’d served under The Captain, so that it didn’t come up wasn’t necessarily a surprise. I was mostly focused on my work here. Still, even knowing this, and without meaning to say anything out loud at all, I slipped out four words at a whisper, “Oh fuck, I’m gay.” 

Snapping back to the present, with The Captain sitting next to me, worried about my emotional safety as well as my physical. This scared me, as I was wont to throw myself recklessly into such a thing with nary a care for myself. However, The Captain was not so reckless. “Captain, please, if we have mutual feelings, then… should we not act on them?” 

She smiled at me, and it tore me to pieces. I pleaded with my eyes as she thought. Finally, she said, “I need you to recover,” she said, gesturing to my broken arm, “And we cannot afford to spend enough time ashore for that. Admittedly, I briefly entertained the idea of nursing you to health, but the crew would starve. We have to take jobs in that time, so…. Well, that leaves me with the idea that I must leave you ashore. I’m sorry, dear.” I knew this meant at least six weeks away from my Captain, and my heart sank. It was likely to be even longer given the extensive damage. “However…. Althaea, look me in the eyes please.” I did so. “Do you want to be with me? Do you truly wish it?” I nodded, feeling as if I was going to cry at the impending rejection. 

Her face softened. “Very well.” She could stop herself no longer, and she leaned up and kissed me, gently. It lingered for only a few seconds, but in that time I felt as if I’d melted into a puddle on the floor of her cabin. When she leaned away I couldn’t help but sigh in relief and, after a few more moments, opened my eyes. She was sitting, watching me, and smiling. “We will have to change the way our professional relationship works, but we can draw up the specifics during your recovery. Regardless, I can’t be _your_ Captain, merely _The_ Captain of the ship you happen to work on.” 

Finally I regained enough composure to respond. “Captain, I– No, sorry… Scarlet.” I toyed around with her name in my head for a moment, “Scarlet, thank you for saving me.” 

Her face soured. “There… There is something I need to tell you, Althaea. Things it would be unfair to leave unsaid, in such a relationship. I am… There are… Hmm,” She paused and stroked her chin. 

“What is it Capt– Scarlet?” 

“There are things I am quite literally incapable of telling you about myself, my past. But you do deserve to know that I have plans at resolving that issue. I do not believe in hiding things in a relationship, past a certain point of severity. So know that when I fail to share things with you, it’s because I literally cannot.” 

I looked at her, puzzled. “What does that mean, Cap-- Scarlet? Believe me, there is nothing you could say that I would be like to judge you for.” 

A sad expression dawned on Scarlet’s face. “You misunderstand, dear. No matter the effort I put into sharing this part of myself with you, you will not retain it.” My look of confusion deepened, and she seemed frustrated, though I could tell it was not with me. What then could it be. “Althaea, let me rephrase… During this conversation, I have attempted to tell you what I mean three separate times.” 

That’s when I noticed that I had a splitting headache. 


	2. A Hammer And A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet and Althaea meet for the first time in the past. In the present, they share a moment of tenderness, and of sadness.

Shandri and I worked quickly. Within a few hours we’d thrown together as many basic barricades as we could. The real time consuming part would be using the sections of wall we had made, along with thick timbers, to shore up strategic streets in town. We’d already drawn a map, and set out with two horses, two carts, and little else save the wind at our backs. Rather than some words of encouragement, Shandri had merely given me a comforting hand on my shoulder and a look of confidence. The process itself was fairly simple. I would go to one of the spots on the map of the city we’d marked with an X, start with a section of wall, and nail it to one of the houses at the entrance to that street. This was made easier by the fact that the vast majority of houses in Drenchport were wooden, being made from reclaimed shipwrecks and decommissioned war vessels that had been…. _appropriated_ from the Rahadoumi to the north. Many of the houses had been built, or at least repaired, by my own hand, and I knew them well enough to recall even what sort of wood had been used in many of them. Shandri had constructed even more of them. 

So it was that I nailed the first section of wall to a section of a pine house in the shape of an upturned keel - which was in fact what the structure of the house was. I knew the woman who lived here to be like to brain me with a cast iron pot for damaging her home, had it not been I who’d built it. Also on my side, and likely more important, was the fact that Gales had raised the alarm, and taken most of the citizens to hole up in the relative safety of his home, which had at least some semblance of walls to delay a siege. Thus, the streets were empty save for myself, Shandri, and some soldiers preparing locations where they could safely rain arrows and spells down on the invaders. 

After linking enough sections of wall to bridge the full width of the street, I took some sections of oak bracing, which we’d harvested from the frame of a ship and cut into a size appropriate to our needs, and braced the wall at various points. It was hard work, and I would be covered in sweat were it not for the perpetual rain that would certainly wash it away. I was thoroughly chilled actually, having left my oilskin on the hook at the shop. No sense in going back for it, I thought. So I was wearing only a thick woolen shirt, long pants, and thick boots. As I swung my arm back, water would flick off of me, and at the impact of the hammer, it felt as if I was in the sea. 

Distracted as I was by my work, and its importance, I still felt a sense of nervousness and dread for what was to come. Looking out on the ocean made it even worse. It was far enough away as to make it difficult to see -particularly under the pale gray storm clouds- but there was no mistaking the Rahadoumi flag. It was painted onto the sails of their fore mast, and likely the others. Two hands, palms facing the viewer. They made a V shape, with the bases of the palms touching. These two were amidst a decorated set of concentric circles of runes, all atop a further decorated shield. Say one one will of the Rahadoumi and their religious policies, or lack thereof, and know that I will say my fair share. However, they certainly know how to decorate in extravagance. 

I spent an hour or so like this, riding the cart from location to location. I nodded solemnly at the militiamen I passed. Many were untrained, or at least unused to combat on land. Still, they were our only chance, and they knew it. The goal, at each of the strategic locations, was to make the wall easier to pass around than to go through. It didn’t need to be permanent, and there would be no preparing against an errant fireball. Still, it would make their progress take longer, and they would lose precious magical resources as well as time. The Rahadoumi would hopefully lose enough men to our militiamen in the streets to abandon Drenchport as a lost cause, as too difficult a place to occupy due to the stubbornness and tenacity of her residents. 

With the last nail in place, I found myself closer to the docks than I would have liked. Of course, that was the plan. Better to make sure the walls were placed in time and leave ourselves in danger than to go to the docks and work upwards, risking that we would not be in safety in time. Looking outwards to the sea, I saw that I indeed would not be making it back in time. The Rahadoumi were upon us, I had mere minutes before they would dock. What I found most interesting is that they didn’t _appear_ to be prepped for a siege, but I was not a soldier and would not be able to fully trust my judgement. 

Close as they were, I had to make a decision between hiding and hoping they would leave whatever home I hid in alone, or attempting to make it back to the top of the town before they arrived. There was a nearby house which had a concealed basement. It would certainly be found in a proper raid, but if they were merely sieging, I may have an opportunity to lift the floorboards that concealed the ladder downwards and escape. I had made my choice, and was moving towards the house. That was, until I ran full tilt into the woman I would soon call My Captain. 

* * *

Little could be more unfair in life than finding something that will change your entire life, and then being unable to actually _do_ anything with it for a significant amount of time. This was true of a great many things, be it a magical secret, a long lost family member being discovered, a loophole that allowed you to take advantage of a contract, or -in my case- a confession of mutual feeling. So it was with My Cap-- With Scarlet. The night I went to her cabin after my injury, she beckoned me to sit down on her bed, as there was only one chair, though she did not join me. We talked for what felt like minutes, but must have been hours as the sun began to peak out over the horizon. We knew our time would be limited before we would need to part for at least a couple of months. 

It felt as if I knew so much of Scarlet, and yet I knew so little. This was to be expected when she had lived for my life time a few times over, though in elves the difference between our ages meant little. She asked me about my youth, and didn’t pry when I only spoke of my arrival in Drenchport and beyond. She mercifully did not ask about my parents. I told her of friends from my youth, and lovers. Of Shandri, my home, and the place I practiced magic. She knew much of this already, but she didn’t seem to mind hearing it again. She told me of her sibling, and how she’d left the Underdark at a relatively young age. I could tell she was being overly careful with the phrasing she used, likely due to whatever caused the headache I still found myself suffering from. There were large gaps in what she said, which I respected. She smiled and, quite pleased with herself, told me she’d always envisioned herself in the life of a criminal, which led her to piracy. 

“You know, we’re really more like a mix between privateers and adventurers,” she observed. 

I nodded, and she continued. “In other parts of the world, we likely wouldn’t be called pirates at all. We would be more like… Mercenaries, I think. Certainly, we raid the invading ships when we can, but the other work we take is not what piracy would usually entail. Slaying monsters, rescuing citizens of the Shackles, delivering supplies… We are armed like pirates, we look like pirates, but are we really?” The question was intended to be rhetorical, I knew. Even had I not, her smile would have indicated as such. I was certain she merely wanted me to think on it. Instead, I turned it on her. 

“Then what are pirates like, Scarlet?” I said with a grin. 

“Well, they steal, and rob, and plunder. They raid lands and ships alike where they can, and live in the moment.” She stood, and stepped closer to me. “I’ve met real pirates, you know.” She leaned down, and I looked up at her. Scarlet reached out, and placed one of her hands on my shoulder, and the other on the bed to my side. When she kissed me, I felt myself melt away. She leaned away for what was only meant to be a moment, and she whispered something. When she did, my headache intensified significantly, and I fell backwards, trying to clutch at my skull. In doing so, I tried to move my shattered arm, which shot pain through my entire torso, and I shouted in pain. Moments later, when it subsided enough to try to move again, I felt Scarlet helping me sit up. Her face was wracked with worry. 

I forced a grin, which she almost certainly saw through, and began with “I’m alright,” and stopped. Her eyes, the color of her name, the brightest thing in the room even compared to the candle on her desk, bore into me. “Okay, maybe I’m not.” Her eyebrows shifted up, and her lips moved into a sad frown. I sighed, and she sat down next to me and put her left hand on my left shoulder. 

“Althaea, I… We have to be careful. You must heal. I… would not be able to bear further separation than we must already endure. Not when this is so new and unsure. When there is so much to work out between us.” She tenderly wrapped her arms around me and just held me for a while. I let myself lean into her. Her clothes smelled strongly of seawater and black powder, but the former was comforting and so I didn’t mind. One of her hands traced circles on my back, while she ran the other through my hair, short as it was. Scarlet kissed my forehead and then helped guide me away a few inches so she could look down into my eyes. I smiled at her and leaned up to kiss her, albeit slowly this time. 

This was when I noticed the dull orange streaming through the window above her desk, muted though it was. I sighed, sadly this time. “I suppose I should go get some rest.” 

“Actually, if you would like, you are welcome to rest here. Though, if the rocking of the sea bothers you, I would recommend one of the hammocks below…” 

I felt myself flutter a moment, then grinned playfully. “Oh yes, Captain? Inviting a girl to bed on your first night together?” 

She smirked, and shook her head. “I have duties to attend to, unfortunately. And... “ She glanced at my arm. “I don’t think that I could… We should wait until you’ve recovered, if that’s something you would, er, like to try.” 

I let out a small laugh. “I would, though… I am right-handed, if you catch my meaning.” Her cheeks flushed a deep purple, which seemed to almost shine. I may not have even noticed, compared to her dark skin, had I not been so close. No, her cheeks actually did shine. A similar bioluminescence to her glowing eyes. I would have to ask about that another time. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused a moment. I chuckled softly. “See, that’s how I feel around you nearly all the time. You’re just so… You’ve an air of confidence and allure. As if you know what you are meant to be, and even the gods couldn’t stop you.” 

She scoffed, but through a smile. “Get some rest, Althaea.” I nodded and went to prepare for bed, but immediately realized the embarrassing situation I found myself in. My clothes were covered in seawater, blood, sweat, and though I was used to being unable to bathe for a time while at sea, I still wished very badly to be free of them. 

“Scarlet, could you, er, help me out of my clothes.” The purple in her cheeks deepened, yet brightened at the same time.” and she shook her head lightly as if to steel herself. 

“Yes, I think I can.” 

* * *

The sea had not always been kind to me, but it was on the day I arrived in Drenchport. As kind, at least, as it could be while thoroughly waterlogging everything I carried on my person. It was, however, important that I go to that city, on the northeastern corner of the isle of Tempest Cay. Though I had many a grudge against the Pirate Council, I held no personal grudge against the people of the Shackles. Indeed, I felt a great need to protect and save them as the Shackles had become my home, and I felt loyal to her and her people. 

So it was that I arrived just after dawn, bearing grave news for the Master of the Gales. My ship, _The Siren’s Song_ had intercepted and raided the lead Rahadoumi ship in what would have been a small invasion force. Not one to take the entirety of the Shackles, but enough to establish control over Drenchport. As the northernmost town, it would be a strategically advantageous one if one planned to subdue the Shackles over time. Fortunately, we had taken their ship. As few of my crew as could manage it took the ship towards Port Peril to trade the ship for food and other supplies, as well as a healthy amount of coin. Most, though not all, of the ships of the Shackles were repurposed from one of the navies on either of its sides. 

When our ship docked, I wasted no time leaving my third - my second was aboard the Rahadoumi ship bound for Port Peril - in charge of the _Song_ and rushing to see Gales. A quarter hour, and some difficulties persuading his early morning guard that I was there with genuine news, and I was in his quiet office. At least, it was the room I took for an office. It had a small desk, and several old maps pinned to the walls. However, the ground seemed to be fresh soil, and both small trees and large shrubs grew haphazardly in the room, though with a man like Gales I was certain there was some kind of rhyme and reason to their layout. 

I was busy inspecting a particularly intricate leaf, which had a web-like pattern on the underside, when I was startled by the sudden and quiet appearance of Gales. “Leave that be, Scarlet.” His gruff voice seemed to materialize out of thin air, and I jumped, tearing the leaf between my fingers a little as I did. He scowled as I sheepishly handed him the piece of leaf. He seemed to growl as he held it up to the place it had been torn. The edges glowed a soft white, and what seemed like glowing strings of plant fiber tenderly lifted from the torn section of leaf, anchoring it back to its original place. Moments later, the leaf was healed. 

“Druids…” I mumbled to myself. Gales looked at me as if to say that I was overstaying my welcome so soon, but I reached into my leather bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Gales, I… Have grave news.” That got him to be silent, to wait for my explanation. “Rahadoum has plans to take Drenchport. I’ve already stopped their lead ship, but another two are supposed to come behind with a proper occupation force. We have maybe eight hours lead before they arrive.” 

He took the paper and quickly unfolded it. Usually Gales was a man who would move slowly, and so to see him even reach for something quickly meant he understood that this situation could be quite dire. He read the paper over, and then lowered it to glower at me. “I will not be able to afford to pay you, depending on what transpires. What do you want, Scarlet?” 

My mouth widened in a grin, and I could feel the glow of my eyes intensify slightly. “Just a favor. Later, not now. You know I would not ask anything of you that would endanger you or Drenchport too severely, least not any more than the danger I am saving you from. I do intend to stay and help, by the way.” 

His scowl deepend. “Very well. What’s your plan?” 

Several hours later, and I’d already begun to mobilize a sort of militia amongst the volunteers that Gales had rounded up. After our meeting, I’d taken a chance to go talk to my crew, and to gather some of them to place within the groups I knew we’d be forming later. Gales had to go speak to a carpenter about creating barriers so we could funnel the Rahadoumi through the city in a more controlled way, allowing us to fight them on our terms. Usually, I would simply go out to sea and fight them with shot and canon and spell, but that would put the _Song_ at too great a risk this close to the Eye of Abendego. So, I’d concocted a plan that would put both my ship and the people of Drenchport at the least risk, and I liked to think it was a good one. 

I went to my crew, and asked for volunteers to join the militia squads on land. Having some experienced fighters and mages amongst them would significantly increase the capabilities of the groups of townsfolk who were largely either untrained or aged beyond their primes. After they were off on their way, up to Gales’ house where everyone would gather, I gave my orders to those who would remain aboard _The Siren’s Song_. Pursuit, a tall and lithe Tiefling with pale red skin, solid amber eyes, and horns that curved upwards, was usually my third. However with my second in command, Oswallt, headed off to Port Peril, Pursuit was in the highest position on the ship save myself. Therefore, I left them in charge of _The Song_. I trusted them implicitly to enact my plan with the potentially critical timing that would be necessary, and they agreed with a wink and a smile. 

With all my duties to my crew sated, I made my way -quickly- to Gales’ home once again. Along the way, I heard hammering in the distance, which I suspected came from the carpenters that Gales had gone to see. Arriving, there was a great mass of people just outside. They wore their oilskins and whatever else they could to keep dry. When the alarm had been raised, few hesitated to go to a more defensible position, and those that did were taken by the more sensible citizens with a healthy sense of fear. Gales was delivering what would pass, from him, as a speech, and asking for volunteers. Those who both wished to and could would fight, if it came to it. Nearly everyone who could fire a bow or crossbow raised their hands, as well as nearly every mage in town, few as they were. It took another hour of organization, which dragged for eternity when every minute felt the length of days, but we eventually had two dozen small squads organized and ready. Each squad determined a leader, almost universally the members of my crew who’d volunteered to come ashore, and the leaders came inside Gales’ home with him and myself. Together, we gathered a map of Drenchport. Gales marked down the location that his carpenters were erecting barriers, and he and myself assigned nearby locations to the militia leaders to take back to their squads. Each squad consisted, roughly, of one or two experienced fighters, one mage, a handful of archers, and a few citizens who knew how to swing an axe or a sword. Chances would not be good in an open and honest fight, but no one intended to let such a thing come to pass. 

Gales elected to stay behind, claiming he had a few spells to cast that would make this fight far more equitable. I told him my plan, and he grinned and simply said, “Then when you give your crew the signal, I shall act as well.” It was cryptic enough, but I didn’t have time to accomplish the difficult task of getting a straight answer from the weathered Master of the Gales. With what little time remained, for I could see the Rahadoumi ships out at sea, I guided the squads into their places, and made my way down to the docks. I was to confront the Rahadoumi directly. While I had no magic to command, I liked to think of myself as quite persuasive. If I could convince the soldiers that this was not a fight worth having, perhaps they would leave. Of course, they were not like to give up quite that easily, so if I could simply show them that I meant business, perhaps they would take me seriously enough. They would see exactly how persuasive I could be. I grinned as I watched their ship glide slowly into the only available slip. Exactly according to plan. It was the only available spot for them to land by design, as there was naught between the Rahadoumi ship and _The Song_ but a fifteen foot wide section of dock, which my crew had removed all the taller boxes and other such from whilst I was away. 

I glanced around to make sure I was alone just in time to be completely knocked to the ground. I hadn’t seen her moments prior, likely because she was around a corner. The particular section of docks I had arranged for this confrontation to take place at was shaped like a V on top of a squared U. Two city streets converged here, leaving a large opening that would make the point of the V, and the Docks themselves were a U, with the bottoms of each shape touching. I had been coming down one branch of the V, and so hadn’t seen her as she sprinted around the corner. I couldn’t blame her for not looking first, anyone but myself would have been mad to face down a Rahadoumi ship alone. But I was always prepared. 

I helped her to her feet, after a healthy number of muffled expletives. She was shorter than myself, though most were, by several inches. She was pale, likely from how little sun Drenchport ever saw, and her eyes were a golden-brown that edged more towards the gold than the brown. Her hair was brown and cut short, and gods know mine would be too if I had spent most of my life soaking wet. Her features were soft, typical for a wood elf, except for her eyes, which looked as if they could pierce the deepest lies. She was well toned, her arms looked as if they could crush me should she decide to. That, combined with the roughness of her hands and the hammer on her belt led me to believe she was the Carpenter that Gales had spoken to, else one of her apprentices. She seemed to have foolishly not brought something to keep the rain off of her, which led me to believe the latter. Her woolen top and simple pants were completely soaked, which showed off her figure. Were we in literally any other situation, I’d have taken the opportunity to flirt with her, especially since to sum up her appearance if asked, I’d have said ‘Cute, but dangerous.’ Absolutely my type. She was trying to apologize profusely, but we didn't have the time. The Rahadoumi ship had its first sailors lowered to the ground, and they were tying the ship off. Moments later they would lower a walkway, and so now it would be to our disadvantage for me to try to hide the elf, even for her own safety. 

I whispered to her “Follow my lead as if you were my second. Say as little as possible, but look intimidating.” I put my hand around her forearm to help position her before I stood to face the man I took to be the leader of these soldiers as he stepped onto the dock to face us. There were a half dozen of his men flanking him on either side, and the rest stood at attention aboard his ship. Exactly the way I needed it to be. Finally, I whispered to the carpenter, “Trust me, I have a plan.” 


	3. Friends, Family, and Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew enjoys their time at port. Scarlet battles a new enemy.

As expected, my rest was fitful at best. Scarlet’s bed was the most comfortable I’d been in for some time, and so it was fairly relaxing on my muscles and bones, but the pain from my arm woke me many times. The sunlight that came through the window on the front of Scarlet’s cabin diffused through the murky glass, so it didn’t wake me. When I was finally awake, I could look out the clear window on the back wall, but even into the afternoon the small degree of overhang where the deck above extended past the window kept the sunlight off of me. 

Still, there was little to be done about my pain. Tana came in a few hours after I finally fell asleep. When she opened the door, I shot awake. I lifted my head to meet her gaze, and she raised a single open hand. “Hey, hey, it’s just me, it’s OK.” I took a breath and fell back down and closed my eyes as she came and sat next to me. She was quiet for a time before I opened my eyes again to look at her. I knew what she was thinking from how wide her grin was. “So, broken arm and everything, you find your way into the Captain’s bed?” 

I scoffed, “It’s not like--” I stopped. It wasn’t what she was suggesting, but we _had_ confessed our feelings for one another. I never came back to my cot, which I used instead of a hammock because I found the sway of the ship to be comforting. “It’s not as exciting as you think,” is what I eventually settled on. 

Her grin did not fade. “So you’re saying that you risked movement while injured, walked all the way to the Captain’s quarters, still haven’t left, _and_ you slept in her bed, and _nothing_ happened? Really, Althaea? No one has ever stayed the night with the Captain like that, not in her cabin, in all my years aboard the ship. Sure, she has her flings on land, but then she sails away. C’mon, girl, dish.” She set something she was carrying down on a nearby shelf. It was a long wooden tray, likely for me. 

I started to sit up slowly, and she helped me. Now that the initial shock had worn off, my arm ached unlike anything I’d ever felt. Most of the injuries I received were related to my hands, and were accidentally self inflicted while trying to fix something else. This was new. Not unbearable yet, but certainly something I hoped never to experience again. I looked into Tana’s eyes for a moment and grinned. “Fine. When I went overboard… I don’t think anyone on the ship knew I was gay? At least, it never came up.” 

Tana chuckled, “Pursuit and I had talked about it.” She noticed me raise an eyebrow curiously. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never had the ‘I wonder if she’s a lesbian’ talk before?” 

I smirked. “Fair enough. Still, I’ve mostly been dedicated to my work for a while. With us sailing around the way we do… Sure, I’ve met people who I would have absolutely tried to develop something with, but it’s never been in the cards. Not in a long-term serious way, at least. But on the ship, I… This is my work, you know? I do some minor magic here and there, I fix holes, and I carve and cut and so on. And when we’re on _The Song_ I just… the Captain-- er, Scarlet is just so… perfect. Witty, and strong-willed, and--” 

Tana raised a hand to stop me. “You’re telling me that you, what, didn’t date because the Cap’n was ‘the only girl for you’? That is _so_ cute. So what happened? What did she say? What did you say?” She smiled genuinely at me. Tana had been a good friend for my few years on the ship. Along with Pursuit, Oswallt, Kuri, Isaris, and of course the Captain, I’d grown close to more people than I ever did in Drenchport. Certainly, I had friends then, and there was always Shandri. Life at sea, however, had been far kinder to me than life in Drenchport ever had, so far as my social circles went. 

“Well… I came in just as Pursuit was leaving. Scarlet seemed… Worried. About me, I suppose.” I gestured with my left hand to my right. 

Tana giggled, “It’s so cute that you’ve already switched to using her name.” 

I rolled my eyes and continued. “But she noticed the way I looked at her when she pulled me back to the ship. Before, I didn’t want to let her know. I, uh, didn’t want her to think that my having feelings for her would impact my performance as a part of the crew. Honestly, I didn’t think I would be her type. Or that she wouldn’t want that kind of distraction on board. That she wouldn’t want _me_ distracted like that. But instead, she was worried about being over me in authority, and hurting me. Then she seemed to think for a moment. I think she was trying to think of a way to proceed without risking harming me. And then…” I paused, wondering if it was OK for me to share this at all. Tana gave me an encouraging gesture, so I continued. “She kissed me. It was… Wonderful. Her lips are so soft, Tana.” I smiled, and felt better just thinking about that moment. “And then we talked into the night. Till the sun came up. She offered to let me stay here, which I was absolutely not going to refuse, and then you came in with the soup you’re currently letting get cold.” 

Tana grinned sheepishly and grabbed the tray off the wall. I had guessed correctly, it was a bowl of stew made mostly from hardy vegetables and salted meats. There had been times ashore where I’d had Tana’s cooking when she had a fully stocked kitchen, so I knew that what she made aboard the ship was absolutely the best she could do with what was available. “I put some extra herbs in it that should help with the pain, but only a little bit. You really should take it easy. That wound is fresh, and relatively open. Were we ashore you would have seen a surgeon already for stitching.” 

I wasted no time grabbing the spoon, which was slightly harder to handle with my off hand. The stew was only just warm, no longer hot as I’d like it. I set the spoon down and gripped the bowl. Taking a deep breath, I whispered a few choice words, and the stew began to steam again. Tana scoffed, feigning offense. “See! I knew you’d be fine if I let it grow cold.” She smiled at me and let me take a few bites before she finally asked, “So… That was it? You didn’t even get to actually rest together? No making love under the moonlight, or anything like that?” 

I laughed, nearly losing the bite I’d been taking. “No. I think she wanted to do something like that, but it didn’t happen.” With a mind to change the subject, I brought up a tangentially related topic. “It’s… going to be hard being away from her for so long. And from you, too, Tana.” 

“Yeah, The Cap’n told all of us that we were going to leave you in Port Peril when we collected our reward. I can’t say I blame her, though I will definitely miss you. Is there anything I can do for you while you’re still here, Althaea?” 

I thought for a few moments. “No, I don’t think so.. After I’m done eating, I want to go out on the deck. I can’t fix or make anything without practicing my left hand significantly, but I can still oversee Arj’s work. I would like to make sure everyone else knows I’m OK.” 

After I finished eating, Tana took my tray and offered to help me up. I declined, and stood. She had asked me to come down to her station so she could change my bandages, and see if my sling needed adjustment, so that’s where we headed first. On the way, everyone above decks was happy to see me, as I knew they would be. Still, they were busy and I was thankful they didn’t stop me to ask about it all again. Scarlet was on the deck above her cabin, at the helm. That meant that Pursuit must be resting, which was a shame because I would have liked to see them. I had slept through the harshest part of the day’s sun, and in fact it was setting, giving the appearance that we were sailing away from it. Below, we went to what passed for Tana’s kitchen. Pots and pans hung from hooks, long enough so the swaying of the ship would not free whatever hung on them, high enough that they wouldn’t hit her head as she worked. Originally, she’d mostly been in charge of preparing and preserving pre-made rations while we were ashore, but I had changed that in my first few months aboard the ship. She now had a flat metal surface that could be heated by inserting a copper rod between a power source I’d fashioned out of a steel cube, into which I’d carved heating runes, and a receiving pipe on the underside of the cooktop. Isaris, a talented wizard who served as our master gunner, had done a lot of the complex runework, but the design had been mine. This allowed Tana to make fresh meals, and even use the surface to heat her pots and pans for soups and stews. The morale of the ship had increased significantly, though I’d spent a few months on the heat source, which I still had to power frequently. While we could have hot meals, we still had to make due with ingredients that could be stored for weeks at a time. 

Tana sat me down just outside her kitchen, and brought a set of bandages and healing salves. “Now, this is probably going to feel like you’ve stuck your arm in an oven. Your wounds are… Well, they’re probably going to start bleeding as soon as I take the bandages off. And there is absolutely nothing I can do for your bones. I’m not a doctor, I just have the steadiest hands.” 

She was right, on all counts. When she took the bandages off, I started to bleed again. The siren’s teeth were unnaturally sharp, and I was lucky to have my arm at all. Certainly, I could have adjusted to losing it, but it would be preferable to not have to make such adjustments. When Tana applied her healing salve, which she explained was just to keep it from growing putrid. I gritted my teeth as she applied it, and for several minutes after. It burned exactly as she said it would, like I’d stuck my arm directly into a fire. Still, it was necessary, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as when I’d actually been bitten. After, she wrapped it in fresh bandages, sure to make them tight so as to prevent bleeding. Then, she helped me adjust my sling. After the burning wore off, it did genuinely feel better than it had before, though it was still more sore than a finger broken by the swing of a hammer. With my arm as taken care of as it could be for the day, I went next to check on my assistant, Arjhan. 

Arjhan had previously been a regular member of the crew, but when he showed an interest in carpentry, I decided to give him a shot. His initial work wasn’t the best, but with some training and practice, eventually he’d become competent. Certainly enough to make repairs on the ship. In another ten years, he’d have the precision to make most anything. There was little need for him or myself to carve a desk aboard _The Siren’s Song_ however. When I arrived at our small work area below decks, he was doing well. He had been performing an inventory evaluation, but he stopped immediately to check on me. I tried to place a hand on his scaled shoulder and reassured him that I was fine, or at least that I would be. Instead, my hand wound up on his upper arm. He was short, for a dragonborn, but that still placed him as easily eight inches taller than I was. I told him that he would be in charge of my duties while I was gone. He understood, and a smile spread across his blue face as he grew excited about the extra responsibilities. 

Next, I went to see Oswallt. As expected, he made a joke or two, but then dropped into a serious demeanor and offered everything he could to assist me. I took great comfort in knowing how the crew responded to the injury of a friend, but all that could be done was time. I stayed to talk for a little while, getting an update on the state of the ship. He was a stern Quartermaster, which everyone usually appreciated in the end. Fortunately, nothing had really changed on the ship since last I’d checked. I’d been the only injury, which was a blessing compared to what could happen in a proper naval battle. 

With that, I went to see the Captain. To see Scarlet. I went up the left hand stairs at the back of the ship. The platform itself was slightly larger in floor space than Scarlet’s room. It was a little wider than the ship, and had a decorated railing that came up to around my mid-torso. When I’d arrived on the ship, it had been plain wood. I had, in my spare time, carved each thick baluster into a decorative shape. They varied, but they were symmetric so whichever side you started on you would find the same pattern. Some were as stacked balls, some were a spiral, some were carved into the shapes of beautiful women, and so on. Beneath the railing, I had installed a bench, which I now sat on. From there, I watched Scarlet for a moment before she realized I’d come up to this deck. She looked back and smiled at me, and she pinned the wheel in place with a wooden peg dangling from a rope. She wouldn’t leave it for long, but we could have a minute. For now, there was no one else with us, though the main deck was in full view. 

“Hey, beautiful, come here often?” She said it in an almost silly tone, so I responded in kind. 

“Oh, you know, only when I want to admire the view,” I said with a smile. She reciprocated my smile and sat down on the bench next to me, taking up a lot of space in a relaxed pose with her legs spread and her arms atop the railings. This conveniently put one arm around me, which I liked. 

“Are you feeling alright, Althaea?” She tilted her head back to look up towards the clear orange sky. The sun was beginning to set, and it was beautiful. 

“As alright as I can, all things considered. I know I was out for nearly the whole day, but I don’t feel like I slept at all. I’m sore, and I don’t think I’ll be up for more than a half dozen hours.” I’d said it with an ulterior motive, albeit a small one. I knew it would be transparent, but this wasn’t about keeping secrets. 

She turned her gently glowing eyes to look right into mine. “Well, I’ve been awake for over a day and a half. As soon as Pursuit wakes up, they’re taking over for the night and I’d like to sleep. If you don’t mind, I’d like to do so in my own bed.” 

Knowing I’d won, I feigned sadness. “Well, my cot calls--” 

She cut me off, “Oh no, I’ll not have it. Lest you really want to sleep below decks, you are welcome to share my bed with me.” She saw my face light up and added, “I’m still not yet comfortable with… Well, I don’t think we should get too carried away. Not till you’ve healed. Is that agreeable?” I nodded, and then leaned against her. We stayed like that for a few minutes. Eventually, she had to get up and tend the wheel. I didn’t leave, though. We passed the next few hours this way, and I appreciated just being near her. She would check the wheel, make sure we were on course, correct our heading if need be, and then come sit with me for a few minutes. Eventually, mercifully, Pursuit awoke and came to take over the wheel. Scarlet and I wasted no time in going back to her cabin to rest. She was asleep in minutes. It took me longer, but I was content to crack the window and hold her hand as I listened to the sounds of the ocean and her breathing. 

The next day was nearly as uneventful. I finally was able to have a conversation with Pursuit, who couldn’t have possibly been more smug about it all. Particularly after I told them everything I’d told Tana. “I knew it! Well, I had suspected for some time that the two of you would… Oh, I would hate to rush you, but.” They looked around as if they were about to tell me a great secret. “I think you’ll be very good for her, and she for you.” 

By evening that day, we arrived in Port Peril. The city itself was of remarkably convenient geography. It was built roughly in a circle, around a large bay. The bay was very deep for being adjacent to the shore, which meant that nearly all vessels could dock there regardless of the weight of the cargo or the size of their hull. There were two entrances to the bay, one to the North and one to the West. Between them, to the Northwest, was an island in the shape of an elongated crescent. The Northern entrance was made of two smaller sections, and there was a small island called Lucrehold between them that Fort Lucre had been built upon. The Southwestern portion of the city held the poor district of Beggarbriar, where the residents primarily make ends meet by fabricating ropes, sails, and other goods that The Shackles always require, while the Eastern shore held the aptly named Merchant’s Marina. To the South of that were the districts of High and Low Eastwind- which were largely exactly as prosperous as their names sounded- and Scrimshaw was the furthest South, placing it just East of Beggarbriar. To the East of Scrimshaw, there were a series of entrances to the Underdark, which was known as the Knotworks. 

When entering Port Peril, it is required that all ships dock first in Crescent Harbor, West of Lucrehold. There, the goods on the ship are inspected. Largely, I suspect this is a show of power, but officially it is to make sure the ship does not harbor an invasion force and that the goods do not pose a direct risk to the city. Port Peril is, after all, what passes as the capital of The Shackles. We hadn’t been on a job pertaining to transportation, so the inspection went by quickly, and soon we found our proper docking slip in Low Eastwind. Most of the crew went to the various taverns and brothels and so forth for a hot meal, a comfortable bed, a cold drink, and warm company. I stayed aboard the ship until it was just myself, Oswallt, Scarlet, and a few members of the crew who would trade shifts with other members of the crew so that _The Song_ would never be unattended. 

For most of this, I stayed on the aft deck, on those very same benches I installed. There, I would be out of the way of the rest of the crew’s movements. Finally, after things calmed down, Scarlet came up to see me. I smiled, and stood to greet her. She wrapped her arms around me, and we just stood for a few moments. When she leaned back, she gave me a quick kiss. She asked if I’d like to accompany her as she tried to find work, which I did. She left Oswallt in charge of the ship, and we were off. First, we checked the Boards. Port Peril had several posting boards, mostly close to the docks. With so many crews coming and going, it was a good way to get attention for work that didn’t need to be particularly discreet. The fact that they were seldom vandalized, and completed jobs were nearly always taken down quickly was a sign of how dedicated the citizens of the Shackles were to working together in such a trying time. Of course, not everyone was so cooperative, but Port Peril had to be by its very nature. 

One of the jobs listed need of a crew of about our size for several weeks of work, mostly involving manual labor with some possibility for fighting. That sounded like exactly the sort of thing Scarlet was looking for, so off we went to find the one who posted it. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the address of an orcish woman. She seemed timid, but allowed us in. She was a few inches taller than myself, though not as tall as Scarlet. She wore a white poet’s blouse with a brown leather vest overtop, as well as comfortable working pants. She offered us a seat in the front room of her small home, which was absolutely covered in books, scrolls, loose papers, maps, and more. A scholar, then. 

“So, I see that you have a need for a crew of a size comparable to mine. What, pray tell, does the work entail miss…?” It saddened me that Scarlet was so straightforward. Selfishly, I wished to keep her here for a day or two longer, but at the same time I knew that her being able to leave the next morning was best. 

The scholar adjusted her glasses. “Yes, ah I am Doctor Kuri Ovak. I am an archeologist from the City of Solku, in Katapesh. That is, ah, on the other side of the Mwangi Expanse.” Though I had not left The Shackles since my arrival in Drenchport, and had little reason to ever suspect I would, I vaguely knew that the place she was speaking of was far, _far_ to the East. 

Scarlet scowled, but it was I that spoke next. “How did you get into the Shackles?” 

Ovak looked at me for a few moments before she spoke, and her answer was not satisfying. “With great difficulty, but here is the best place to study The Eye. Certainly, I could have gone to the Sodden lands to the North, but it is far too dangerous. Everywhere else is directly at war, and thus suspicious of outsiders. The Shackles are the only neutral ground near enough to The Eye of Abendego, even if you are… Well, caught in the middle of the ongoing war. You are, at least, not an active participant.” 

“What’s the job?” By Scarlet’s tone and facial expression, I knew she was prepared to walk. Moving in or out of the Shackles was no easy task, and so anyone who could or would do so was someone worth being cautious around. That was the general consensus, at least, and gods knew I was personally aware of just how true it was. 

The scholar smiled. “Nothing terribly dangerous. Not for a crew of pirates, at least. There is a site of some archeological interest on the island you call ‘The Smoker’. I require a team to dig, as well as defenses from the island’s more supernatural inhabitants. Mephits and so forth. There were texts back home referencing the formation of The Eye. It is common knowledge that it was formed when a god died, but what I seek to learn is if there are other factors at work. Essentially, if it is an active process, or merely something that exists in the world now. Fortunately, you needn’t worry about the more academic details. I need a few fighters, and many who can handle a pickaxe. If we find the temple I believe to be on the island, I will need to train everyone to be more delicate, but that is hopefully an issue for a few weeks from now.” 

Scarlet looked at me questioningly. I nodded, thinking this sounded like as fine a job as any. It was certain to have its complications, but nothing she couldn’t handle. If some minor beings of fire were the worst dangers the job had to offer, then I thought it would be no problem. She looked back at Ovak. “Very well. How long do you need to pack?” She gestured to the piles of books Ovak had scattered around her home. 

“Oh, I could pack as quickly as tonight. I needn’t bring all of this. I will condense as much as I can.” 

Scarlet sighed, letting her tension go. “Then we set sail in the morning.” 

* * *

The man approached slowly, cautiously. His armor was gilded, but I could tell even from this distance that it was not just for show from the dents and scrapes that hadn’t yet been worked out. It was polished, which meant it hadn’t been used too recently, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here for a fight. I glanced down at the carpenter to steel myself before speaking. “Do you need some assistance? It appears you’ve docked at the wrong port. Yours ought to be, oh, a few miles North.” 

He grinned happily, as if he were going to relish this as much as any game. It was difficult to make out details, but he had light skin and dark hair. He appeared to be human, though that was no guarantee. “Oh is that so? Perhaps I would ask Aroden,” he turned as if to leave but then stopped to turn back, “Were it not for his death around the formation of the very Eye you’d have me sail into. Scathing suggestion, Pirate, but not enough. I take it the lead ship didn’t make it?” He projected his voice well. I would have guessed he was a public speaker if I’d met him anywhere else, but his armor and demeanor said ‘General’. 

There were a few different ways to play this game. A small sliver of me still hoped he would turn and take his men with him, and that the people of Drenchport would not face battle today. The rest of me knew that was not possible. I was just delaying the inevitable. “Lead ship? Is that not you, Mister…” I paused for effect, then continued shouting across the thirty paces that separated us. “I’m sorry, if I’m going to kill you, I’d very much like to know your name first.” 

He laughed, and turned towards his men who laughed in turn, and the carpenter looked at me like I was mad. I was, but I still had no intent of losing before the battle had even begun. Finally, he quieted, and he turned back towards me to speak. “General Malcer Brightwood. It is only fair you know the name of the man who kills you, bilgerat.” 

I knew I had delayed long enough, and it was time to show my hand. Without moving my lips over much, I whispered, “Get ready to run,” to the carpenter. “Well, General,” I did a little bow, “I am honored to best a man of such rank! Let me show you why it’s best not to overestimate oneself, or to underestimate a bilge rat.” I brought my hand to my mouth, and whistled. 

All hell broke loose. 

There was a momentary pause after I whistled, and the General’s men looked about expecting to see an army. Of course, I didn’t need an army. I had a ship. All at once, the canons of _The Siren’s Song_ began to fire. There was little more than fifteen feet between my ship and her target. All the General’s men tried to duck for cover, but there was nothing to hide behind. While I had been talking to Gales, my crew had moved the goods on the dock so that nothing would be high enough to intercept canonfire. They had also taken a few men to move the ships around so that the only open slip would be the one next to the _Song_. It would be hell to clean up after but none of the General’s men on the main deck of the ship, where they were waiting in neat rows to disembark and storm the city of Drenchport, would likely survive. We could do nothing for the second ship, which was still a few hundred yards out at sea. The first ship’s main mast was severed, and it fell awkwardly against the mizzen mast, tearing its sail. A few of my crew, who had been laying flat on the top deck, stood and immediately fired bows, crossbows, and spells towards the ship. In short order, it was in flames and no longer an immediate threat. 

As instructed, bless their hearts, my crew took this opportunity to flee in the opposite direction. And what a blessing that they did! General Brightwood scowled and thrust his hands out towards the ship. Arcs of frost, visible as it froze the moisture in the air, shot out at the ship. The water beneath a thin section of the ship froze, causing it to cease swaying in the water. A thick layer of ice formed across the wooden deck. Had he been faster, the crew would have been directly hit. 

I grabbed the carpenter’s hand, not waiting for what would come next, and ran. I was a talented fighter, but I would need to close the distance if I were to do anything about his magic. The General and his men who’d been on the docks took up an immediate pursuit as we all ran down the dock, parallel to the sea. A few crossbow bolts flew past, but I knew it would be difficult for his archers to draw whilst running, giving us a little bit of extra time. We went down the second street into the city proper, and then immediately into the first alleyway. I pushed the carpenter against a wall, to make it harder to see us in profile. Almost immediately realizing the possible connotations of that motion, I moved to her side, and whispered. “Apologies fair maiden, I think it best if you find a place to hide while I continue this chase.” 

For just a moment, she seemed to look at me with stars in her eyes, until she spoke. “Absolutely not, I’d rather not be alone if they find me.” 

I could hear heavy booted footfalls entering the street we’d taken. “Wish granted. I hope you can swing that hammer.” Slowly and quietly, in the dark of the alley, I drew my sword without leaning away from the wall. I could hear the clank of their boots as they all stopped in the first dozen feet of the street. The fact that they couldn’t immediately see me in an otherwise empty street guaranteed, from their perspective, that I’d either hidden or used magic to disappear myself. Neither option would make it safe to rush forth as I had hoped they would. 

They moved slowly and methodically forward, checking boxes and peering through windows. Carefully, I shifted so that I was closer to the edge of the alley than the carpenter. I readied my blade and slowed my breathing. Moments later, the first soldier peeked his head around the corner and I reacted swiftly, running him through. He shouted and fell to the ground as I drew my blade from the gap in his plates of armor I’d managed to slip between. I wasted not a second, stepping into the street to try to locate their general. Unfortunately, he was the furthest away of them all. However, I could make that work to my advantage. Were I too close to his allies, and were he an honorable man, he wouldn’t risk hitting them with his magic as well. He’d have no choice but to draw his weapon and close the distance, placing him exactly where I wanted him, or to wait back for his men to die. 

His five remaining men descended on me before he had the chance to decide.. The first, wielding a traditional longsword and shield, made the mistake of moving his shield just a little too far out so he could get a more powerful swing. I sidestepped his swing and slashed at his shield arm with my cutlass. When he recoiled from the pain, I hit his gauntleted wrist with the flat of my blade. He dropped it, and immediately shot his eyes towards me, full of fear. I did not show mercy. 

The second soldier caught me off guard by coming from the side whilst I was distracted with the first. I barely got my blade up in time to block her flail, but the chain wrapped around my cutlass and she pulled it free of my hand. Unarmed, there was little I could do but go for my second weapon, a rapier I kept on the opposite hip. Cross drawing while an enemy was so close would likely prove deadly, so I took a large step backwards. Still, she had the advantage in terms of reach, and I likely would have been struck were it not for a bolt of fire streaking past my shoulder and causing the soldier to stumble. Taking the opportunity, I lunged forward and finished her. 

I glanced back as the carpenter stepped forward, with a sickly-green orb of boiling liquid floating just a few inches above her hand. She had a determined scowl across her face, but I could tell from her stance that she wasn’t used to battle. The remaining three soldiers rushed forwards, but General Brightwood stayed further back. 

Suddenly, there was a deep sound akin to a roar, but it was not made by any beast I’d seen or heard before. The sound had been powerful enough to feel through the cobblestone streets. It came from the sea, and the soldiers all turned back towards it. That’s when I came to understand what Gales’ cryptic offer had meant. Great limbs rose from the water, wrapping themselves around the Rahadoumi ship that was still at sea. Arrows and spells fired at the limbs, which slammed down and swept the soldiers into the sea. The limbs moved as if they had no need for joints, and they were long enough to wrap around most of the ship. Even from this distance, we could hear the groaning of wood as the creature began to squeeze the ship. 

Seeing my opportunity, I stepped forward and quickly downed two of the soldiers, and the carpenter realized what was going on immediately around her and loosed her spell at the third. That left us and the General. Hearing the third soldier’s screams, as the spell had not killed him, the General glanced towards his ship in flames. He glanced towards the ship at sea just as her hull finally gave way with a horrible _Crack_. The beast never showed it’s body, or its true size. But it quickly began to drag the ship down. 

Brightwood scowled at me and the carpenter and said, “We will meet again, bilgerat.” There was a flash, he was gone, and all we could see was the masts of the Rahadoumi warship slipping, quietly now, beneath the sea. 

* * *

The evening air was cool, at least relative to the weather in this part of the world. This was largely due to the breeze that often flowed through the cove that Port Peril was located in. It was a pleasant reprieve from the heat we often experienced exposed to the sun on _The Song_. I reached out for Scarlet’s hand, and she gladly accepted, squeezing mine a few times. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. The sun had set already, so the streets were lit only by oil lanterns as we left Ovak’s home for the preferred tavern of the crew. There, Scarlet would let all of them know that we had a job, and there would likely be drinks and revelry into the night. Then, in the morning... I preferred not to think of that part just yet, lest it spoil my ability to enjoy the mirthful evening we were to have. 

The tavern itself was named _The Anchor Point_ after the eponymous object embedded into the inner wall of the structure. The bartender, a Halfling named Trym, would tell one of a dozen different stories on how it got there, each more thrilling than the last. Personally, I suspected magic, as it was at least my height plus half for good measure. Music could be heard coming from the tavern from quite a ways down the street, along with the sound of the patrons who knew the words singing along. 

“That one’s your favorite, isn’t it?” Scarlet was watching me with far more focus than the street before us, and I hadn’t realized I was smiling so strongly until I noticed her bright, glowing eyes on me. 

“How did you know?” 

“I pay far more attention than you think, my dear.” With that, she opened the door for me and we went inside. 

Moments later we were part of the clapping and singing, drinks in hand. The song was quite a long one, a lascivious ballad about lovers at port and lovers at sea, so we made it in time for the middle on. Tana and Pursuit had a single arm each on one another’s shoulder, drinks in the opposite hand. Were Oswallt not aboard the ship, I knew he’d be seated and would still manage to be just as merry as the rest. After the song ended, Scarlet was again The Captain as she stepped up onto a table. She held her drink aloft and the bard in the corner wisely waited to begin a new song. “Alright, you sorry lot!” We all cheered. “Tomorrow morning, we set sail!” The room was quiet for a moment before she added, “So the next round of drinks is on me, get whatever you want!” That was all they needed. We spend the next hour or two singing, dancing, and enjoying ourselves. At some point I got a hot meal with Scarlet, though it wasn’t as good as what Tana could cook have done with the same ingredients. 

Folks began to filter out after a while. Those who felt like the money was worth it rented a room, so they could sleep in a real bed. Most went back to the ship. There was no sense paying for a room that would be very similar to Scarlet’s cabin but with less of a view, so we walked slowly, hand in hand, back to the ship. Part of me wanted to stay awake for as long as I could, but it was late, and we were tired. As soon as she closed the door behind me, Scarlet threw her hat perfectly onto a hook next to her armoire. I smirked at her, and sat to kick my boots off. I knew I’d need help with the rest, but I was determined to do what I could. 

“Don’t look too impressed, dear, I did have to practice that on one very boring afternoon.” She winked at me and laughed. I laughed too. She walked over and hung up her coat, then set about the rest. She stepped towards the bed, but stopped, and looked at me for a few moments. Scarlet stepped back over to her armoire and opened it, reaching for a small box in the bottom. She withdrew a pouch, and set it down on her desk so as to not forget it the next morning. A few minutes later and we layed facing one another in her bed, wearing only our underclothes. For a while, we just layed there in the dark, looking into one another’s eyes with the only sources of light being the street lights outside and Scarlet’s eyes inside. 

“Scarlet, can I ask you something?” 

For a moment she looked confused, as if I’d have already accepted that there were no secrets between us. If only that were the case. Her face showed that she realized the same thing I did, so she simply said, “Anything, my dear. I will gladly tell you anything that I can.” 

I let a small smile slip. “I’ve met drow before you, and none of them have had glowing eyes. The same color, certainly. But never with a literal luminescence. Is that… Intentional?” 

She laughed quietly for a moment before she answered. “Drow all have roughly the same inherent magical abilities. Conjuring darkness, or light. Most are sensitive to sunlight, though it’s obvious that I’ve grown accustomed. However, I was never able to use the magic that my people possess. Well, not consciously, at least. Mine manifests in a largely unique… ‘Luminescence’ as you put it. It also happens-” 

“When you blush, yes,” I said, nodding. This actually made her blush, and her cheeks glowed ever so slightly purple. “I think it’s lovely.” I leaned forwards and kissed her, and she did the same. 

The following morning was slow. Were I not savoring every single moment, it would have been painfully so. We went to the tavern for breakfast, which consisted of eggs, diced and fried potatoes, steak with onions, grits, and a small slice of fruit pie. Hearty, hot, and cheap to make, the hallmarks of tavern food. It wasn’t my favorite, but it was pleasant and I shared it with Scarlet and the rest of the crew. Sitting at our table besides Scarlet and myself were Oswallt, Tana, Pursuit, our rigger named Creak, and our gunner named Isaris. Creak was around my height, with black feathers coating her whole body, a black beak, and round black eyes. It was often said that the Kenku were descended from crows, and she looked every part of it. Isaris was an older halfling woman of a pale complexion, with her incredibly long hair wrapped in a tight decorative braid that, even as condensed as it was, went down to her mid-thigh. 

Of course, the crew all knew better than to ask about the job before they left port. Port Peril had become mostly safe since the start of the war, but there were still those ready to cross one another for the sake of wealth or other gain. It was best for no one but yourselves to know where you were going, and everyone trusted Scarlet to lead them well. They did not, however, realize how difficult it would be for me to watch them leave. 

Isaris set down her drink and turned to Scarlet. “Captain, I have an idea for a new ammunition for the canons we could carry. Something akin to a harpoon, allowing us to attach the ship to… well, anything that will take a harpoon. Even without a rope, I imagine it would be devastating to another ship. If we could pass by a rock formation or two for target practice, I would like an opportunity to test it.” 

Scarlet looked curiously at the halfling for a moment before resuming her usual resting face. “Very well. I think we could find a few uses for that. Could it damage the canons?” 

“I don’t think so, not with the casing I would use, but that is going to have to be a part of the test. The main issue is going to be retrieving them. That will have to be done manually, or else with magic. Most likely we’ll have to cut the rope and lose them. Regular shot stores easily enough, but we will have far fewer of these. Still, adding to our capabilities is never a bad thing.” Isaris pushed her plate forward, finished. “I’ll go acquire some regular harpoons to test it with. If it works, I’ll have to improve on the design for our purposes and have some special ordered.” 

“Very well,” Scarlet responded as Isaris walked away. “Oswallt, I believe that means that _you_ may be special ordering us some harpoons soon.” 

The dwarf chuckled and ran his fingers through his pitch black beard. “Yes, I think you’re right, captain. Funny how she takes credit when I do half the work.” There was a humorous murmur of agreeance, though it was not malicious. Oswallt was an interesting man, and a dear friend. He hailed from a mountainous region on the slim segment of the mainland on our side of the border wall. His city, expertly wrought from the natural stone in a crevasse where his people had lived for generations, was the most beautiful place in the Shackles by his telling. Since his first story of home, I’d wanted to visit. To see the sunlight pour in from above casting light shadows across the grey stone, carved on nearly every vertical surface with tales older than living memory. His people were artisans, not mere stoneworkers. They took the mundane art to an extraordinary level, and I very much wanted to see if it was as beautiful as he made it sound. 

As for the man himself, Oswallt was of average dwarven height, which is to say around a foot and a half shorter than myself. He was strong, but relied more heavily on his mind than his strength. His skin was a warm ochre, not unlike the comforting clay of the town I’d originally come from. Indeed, he was a comforting man. His actual job on the ship was to run the numbers, keep track of ledgers and equipment, and other tasks that required him to keep many factors together at once. He also made it his personal goal to make everyone aboard as comfortable and at-home as they could be, which was wonderful for me when I first left Drenchport. Despite his family’s proclivity for the artistic, he said he’d always had a head for numbers. It had served him well at home, as he ran the business side of his family’s affairs. He’d always wanted to see as much of the world as he could, though, and thus had ventured from his home and wound up meeting Scarlet a few decades before I did. Oswallt always intended to return home eventually, but he’d made friends, and had found a family at sea. I fully believed that he would return one day, but a life of adventure suited him well. 

Creak opened her mouth, but it wasn’t her own voice that came out. Kenku have the wonderful ability to mimic sounds they hear, including voices. So, she simply said I’ll “have to improve on the design for our purposes and have some special ordered,” in Isaris’s voice perfectly. Everyone laughed, and Creak returned to her normal voice. “Don’t tell her I did that, please.” 

“Alright, alright, enough everyone, you’ve had your fun.” Scarlet’s face showed a smile, but her words and tone were a warning. 

Shortly after, everyone finished their meals. We all gathered ourselves and went to the ship. As expected, the archeologist was waiting for us with a few trunks of supplies. Just as we approached, one of the crew stepped down to start carrying her things on board the ship. Scarlet greeted her, and formally welcomed her aboard. “Normally, I would give you a tour to your quarters and the kitchen and so forth now, but unfortunately I’ll need to do that when we set sail. For now, I have…” Her eyes flicked towards me, only for a second, “Something else to attend to.” 

With that business concluded for the moment, Scarlet walked over to me at the edge of the stone dock. The smell of the salty air was strongest here, and the gentle creak of wooden ships was almost melodious in quality. My Captain was, of course, as beautiful as a moonlit midnight. She offered out her hands, and I placed my left one in them. “I’m sorry, Althaea. I will return for you. Here,” she withdrew a hand to reach into a pocket on the inner side of her coat, and she placed a heavy pouch in my hand. The same one she’d pulled from her armoire the night before. “This should get you through to when we return. Heal well, my dear.” 

A heavy degree of sadness played across my face, though I did not shed a tear. I hadn’t been ashore for this long since leaving Drenchport. The Captain had always been there. Tana, Oswallt, and all of them had taken me in so quickly. Family has always been a difficult concept for me to deal with, considering my origins. One can, however, find family wherever they look. Sometimes you are born into a family, and it may take many shapes. Some have many parental figures, siblings, cousins, and more. Some have only a mother and a small, quiet, and hidden residence. Sometimes family is a carpenter that takes you in and teaches you her craft. I had all of these things, but now my home and my family were aboard _The Siren’s Song_. While I had left or lost family before, this would be the most difficult time even knowing they would be back in but a few months. 

“I will think of you often, Scarlet. Be safe, for me.” 

A wide grin spread across her lips, but I noticed it didn’t carry to her eyes. “If I’ve made it this far, my dear, I do not fear as simple a job as this.” She was right, my fear was merely that something would happen while I was not there to act on it. I made a note to myself to work on that. 

Trying to bring levity to the moment I said, in the silliest voice I could muster, “Bring me a souvenir would you, darling?” That got a genuine laugh out of her, and this time the smile did spread to her eyes. “Scarlet… I lo--” 

She placed a finger to my lips, stopping me. “No, don’t. Not yet,” she said through her smile. “Give me something to look forward to upon my return.” 

I nodded. Hesitantly at first, I leaned up slowly. She leaned down to meet me, and we shared a deep, warm kiss. Old tales always speak of ‘True Love’s Kiss’ as a powerful and magical moment, which I had always taken for a flowery way to make those tales more exciting. I had shared many a kiss and tender moment before I ever met Scarlet, but I hadn’t had months of secret longing with those women. True, Scarlet and I had kissed before, but this was different. It carried with it change. It was a promise, a beginning, and a commitment all at once. 

When finally we separated, we simply stared into one another’s eyes for a while before Pursuit, in their characteristic irreverence, wolf-whistled at the two of us. We laughed, and rolled our eyes. Scarlet gave me one last peck before boarding the ship. Minutes later, they were sailing away. Scarlet stood on the back of the ship, watching me as they went. It was then that I noticed how distraught she looked. She’d done an excellent job of hiding it before, but now it was plain to see. In my self-concernedness, I’d never checked in with her. I’d never comforted her, or even bothered to make sure that she was OK. When I realized that she was just as upset about our separation as I was, I broke my composure. Tears started streaming down my face. I carefully sat down on the edge of the dock, with my legs hanging over. The tears didn’t stop until they were well past the horizon. 


	4. Friends Old And New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet negotioates a deal. Althaea tries to settle down, and fails.

The Master of the Gales awaited me in his manor. This time, rather than waiting in a small room filled with exotic plants, I was in a larger room filled with mundane ones. Despite my protestations, the carpenter had followed me, insisting that she wanted to thank me properly before I left Drenchport. Initially I had resisted, but her persistence won me over in the end. While we waited for Gales’ arrival, I sat at the corner of a receiving couch while the carpenter sat on the opposite end. I extended my arms across the back of the couch, and crossed my feet on the ottoman. A moment later, I took a deep breath and extended my far hand out to the carpenter. 

“Captain Scarlet, _The Siren’s Song_ , single,” I said with a wink. She rolled her eyes, but she took my hand and blushed ever so slightly. 

“Althaea. Is Scarlet your given name, or your surname?” Her golden eyes seemed to gently judge me, as if she were trying to thoroughly figure me out. 

My smile faded. The truth was that it was chosen, but only because I was forced to abandon my true name. Were I to tell her that, however, she would be left unable to remember, and I would have to find another way to answer anyway. Instead, I simply said, “It’s my only name, now, though I used to have another.” That was too far, as moments later she began to rub her temples. It had been eighty years, twice over as long as the time in my life before it, that I had gone by this name. At this point, I had accepted that I would never grow used to my new name, though part of me wished to out of spite. To distract her from the minor pain she was certainly feeling, I added a question of my own. “And do you have a surname?” 

She blinked a few times and looked quite uncomfortable before responding as if I’d caught her in a lie. “Err- No. It’s just Althaea.” I raised an eyebrow curiously, but knew I’d have to accept that answer for now. It was then that I decided how I wanted this meeting to go, and just in time for Gales to enter the room. 

He walked over to his ottoman, where my boots still rested. The older man’s scowl was enough to voice his displeasure, yet he still took the time to lift his walking stick to gently prod my feet away. Not wanting to lose potential leverage in the negotiation to come, I spoke first. “Good news, Gales, the Rahadoumi general holds me personally responsible for his loss, and not the town of Drenchport.” I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees. Gales did not sit. 

“Loathe as I am to admit it, we are in your debt, Scarlet.” I performed a small bow. “Don’t get too full of yourself. As agreed, one favor. That’s it. I appreciate you saved my city with no casualties, but I reckon I did half the work.” 

For a moment I thought about arguing that I had sunk the lead ship far out to sea, but I didn’t want to jeopardize his cooperation with what I hoped to gain. Who I hoped to gain. “I appreciate your assistance, whatever in the hells that was,” I said with the image of the many-armed beast flashing in my memory. “But I think I would like to call in that favor now.” 

“Very well. Name it.” Curt, simple, to the point. 

A wide grin spread across my face, and I nodded my head in the direction of Althaea. “I’d like your carpenter to join my crew.” His face, which had been starting to soften, immediately soured. “You can’t bargain with people!” He tapped his staff against the ground and sparks shot out where it made contact. 

For my part, I wagered a glance back at her to gauge her thoughts on the matter. This would only work if she were willing to join the crew. To my surprise, she was already in deep contemplation. Her relationship with this city was unknown to me, but if she were apprenticed to the master carpenter, and had been for some time, then she would be a valuable addition to the crew. As it stood, we had to pay for repairs at port every time we sustained damages. Being able to do them on our own would indirectly increase our profits, making the whole crew happy. Crews are not nearly as fixed or stable as the stories would have it seem. The command crew often stayed, but everyone was free to come and go at any time. As a direct result of that, we had been short of anyone to do repairs for several years now. Costs were higher, profits were lower, and morale was lower as a result. 

Gales sighed and brought his fingers to his lips to produce a loud whistle. A servant came quickly and was given instructions to go get Shandri, who I assumed to be the master carpenter. “Know that if she is unwilling, _Captain_ ,” he spat, “then she will not leave this city. When Shandri gets here, we will negotiate.” I nodded in assent. Minutes later, as she apparently did not live far, the master carpenter arrived. She ignored me at first, throwing her arms around Althaea. 

“Are you alright, dear?” She leaned back and had one hand on each of the elf’s shoulders. 

“I’m fine, Shandri. The… This captain saved my life, actually. Had she not been there, I doubt the soldiers’d have shown me mercy. I was within arrows reach of their landing party.” She was startlingly calm, which was a very good sign for her capabilities under pressure. 

Gales cleared his throat to garner their attention before he explained what was going on to Shandri. “This captain, Scarlet,” he gestured to me, “Has saved Drenchport. In exchange she has asked for your apprentice to join her crew as payment for her services. Know that if the girl,” Althaea scowled at being referred to in such a dismissive way, “wishes to stay, I will not allow Scarlet to take her. Being that she is your apprentice, I think it only fair that you are part of the negotiation.” 

I simply gestured with my hands, as if to say _You’ve got me._ Shandri, seeming to disregard Gales’ opinion fully, turned to her apprentice. “Althaea, what do you think?” 

I shot her a smile, but she was very deep in thought. She opened her mouth to speak, but Gales interrupted with a shout. “You will leave us bereft of a carpenter! Shandri is the best damned craftsperson I’ve met in my life. We _need_ the one imparted with those gifts!” He turned towards her. “Listen, we are both old. We have only so long to live. We’ve both got maybe -Maybe!- fifteen summers left of being able to work the way we do. When we are dead and gone, who will build the homes? Who will repair the shops? The ships that dock here? Who will build the furnishings? Yes, there are others here, but you are the best of them, and this girl will be too, if she’s even as half as good as you.” 

The room took on an air as if one, in youth, were with a close friend whilst being scolded by their parents. Althaea looked furious, but Shandri was nothing but calm. I, too, maintained my calm. It needed to seem as if my stake in this was as small as possible. 

Shandri turned towards me. “Well, Captain… What exactly is it you’re asking?” 

“Well,” I cupped my hands together gently. “I propose that Althaea,” I gestured towards her, “Works for me for a time of three months. Then, my debt with Gales will be satisfied, and whether she chooses to stay aboard is entirely up to her.” I paused for only a moment before turning to the woman in question. “And, dear, if you wish to leave before that time -or any time thereafter- I will bring you back here or anywhere else you wish to go in the Shackles as quickly as possible. If you stay for three months, then this town will owe me nothing. But if you wish to stay here, then I will leave and find a different way to call in my favor some other time.” This was not a threat, and I hoped it didn’t come off as such. 

For his part, The Master of the Gales was slowly turning red with fury. Once more, he slammed his staff down, and every potted plant in the room blossomed at once as he turned and stormed out of the room. None of us stopped him. 

Shandri turned to face her apprentice once more. “Well, dear, what do you think?” The old woman smiled, already knowing the answer from the facial expressions of her apprentice. It was plain to see that she was both sure of and comfortable with what Althaea was going to say next. I’d never have admitted it, but I had no idea which way this would go. It’s safe to say that I was not displeased with the result. 

Althaea shifted in her seat for a moment before looking at me intensely. Gone was every drop of self-doubt, and her golden eyes pierced mine like a needle delivering ink to skin. “What would my duties be? What jobs do you take?” 

Straight to the point. Confident. Self-assured, if a bit inexperienced. In other words, teachable, but competent. She would make a fine addition to the crew. “Primarily repairs to the ship. You would report to our boatswain, Rowan. I would also like to test your… magical capabilities. Casters are rarer in the Shackles than they are elsewhere in the world, and I think it would do you well to practice. As far as jobs go, we do a little bit of everything. Protection, raiding the armies of the north and south, finding lost things and people, slaying monsters, and more. If you’re wondering, we do not prey upon the citizens of the Shackles. I cannot say I have not killed any who make their home here, but I can say that I have never done so without good reason. Does that satisfy you?” 

“It does…. My Captain.” 

* * *

The first night after _The Siren’s Song_ sailed away was far more restless than any I’d had in quite some time. I stayed at the Anchor Point, where they at least had real beds and hot food. In the morning, I ate breakfast alone, then decided to walk the docks for a while. This gave me time to think on how the next few months would be. The money Scarlet had given me could have lasted far longer than it hopefully needed to, but I knew I shouldn’t be frivolous with it. Despite that, I knew I needed some way to pass the time. So it was lucky then that I found myself having walked all the way to Merchant Marina. There, I found a shop that specialized in tools. The shop itself was set up with most of the smaller tools hanging from the ceiling, which were just slightly out of my reach, and most of the larger tools either hanging on the walls proper or leaning against it depending on their shape and use. For a while, I considered trying to pick up a new craft entirely, just as a hobby, but instead settled on a basic set of chisels, whittling knives, and a few other similar tools. The shopkeep, after commenting on my right arm being in a sling, talked me into getting a small vise that could be clamped to any table. This way, I wouldn’t need a second hand to carve wood, though I would lose some of the more intricate capabilities I had. Still, it would be something, and maybe I would even sell some of them to passing sailors as trinkets or luck charms. 

Next, I found myself in a shop that sold paint just a few doors down, where I acquired a small set of paints and a few brushes. There was a shop next door that sold wood, and I paid them to deliver a few blocks of varying size to my room at the Anchor Point. In total, I’d spent fewer than fifteen pieces of gold, and these materials should last me for quite some time. My hope was that I could hone my abilities with my off hand, and ideally be better for it when I had finished healing. And so it was that I whittled away the next few days in the same manner that I whittled the wood: Quickly at first, and then very slowly and carefully. My first attempt, which was supposed to look like a whale, was passable but certainly uneven in a few places. It wasn’t bad, given that I’d never tried to make something with my off hand only and that the vise I was using could only be tightened so much before it marked the wood. When it was finished, I stained the misshapen whale in a relatively light color, to protect the piece from further damage. It wasn’t perfect, but I found its imperfections rather charming, and so it went on the small nightstand next to my bed. 

The first week and a half passed this way, with solitary meals, walks along the docks, and carving wooden blocks. By this time my right handed skill had begun to somewhat pass to the left, allowing me to make trinkets that were at least passable enough to show others if I wanted. Though it was an easier task, I made a wooden anchor and painted it a deep black. After it dried, it was gifted to Trym, the tavernkeep, who hung it from a hook above the bar. My meal was free that night, as Trym had been tickled by the fact that no one before had given them a gift whilst they were at work. 

The next day, I took my lunch out to the docks. I sat watching the ships come and go, with my feet dangling above the water. The weather was warm, but less humid than it usually was thanks to a cooling breeze, so the air felt nice on my skin. Ever since I’d left the inn, however, something had felt off. I had taken a more circuitous route to see if I was being followed, but didn’t think that was the case. Still, I went back to the inn sooner than usual and asked Trym to make note of anyone that stayed all day after that for me. No one did. 

Another week passed, and I missed the ship terribly. Were there a way for us to communicate over such distances, it wouldn’t have been near as bad. While magical methods of doing so did exist, we didn’t have access to any at this time. With so much time left to my own thoughts, I couldn’t help but wonder how Scarlet and company were doing. By now, they’d have arrived at their destination, assuming safe travels. I had to make that assumption, as everyone important to me was on that ship except Shandri. 

After a bland breakfast, I went on my usual walk. This time, I found myself in the district of Scrimshaw, which was a mix of just about everything that could be found in Port Peril. It had no docks itself, but there were a few artisans that lived and worked here, as well as many businesses centered on general goods of one kind or another. It was also where a lot of the petty crime was centered, though getting caught could see you hang if it came to the attention of the wrong person. The city didn’t have a traditional town guard, being a bit more centered on anarchy than anywhere else in the Shackles. It did, after all, have to serve as neutral ground above all else, and the presence of an organized militia could be easily exploited by greasing the right palms. 

As I walked down a mostly unoccupied side street, I noticed a woman eyeing me greedily from further down the street. She had a dagger at her side, and an air about her that unnerved me. I crossed the street to avoid her, but noticed that she was following me a minute later. I took a left turn to have a chance to start running, and realized I played her game exactly as she wanted me to. There were three people with drawn weapons in similar garb all facing me. I stopped and took just a moment to decide whether it would be better to fight or flee given my injury, but it was just a moment too long. The woman pressed her dagger gently to my back, not hard enough to pierce my skin, but hard enough to let me know she could end me at any moment. 

“Your coin purse and any valuables, and you’ll be on your way.” Her voice was more refined than I had expected, and I would think it soft were there not a blade pressed to my back. I nodded slowly and began to untie the pouch at my hip, but made an effort to fake fumbling with it. The pouch clattered to the ground, spewing silver and gold coins everywhere. I made a show of glancing back at the woman, and she scowled. “Pick it up.” 

This was exactly what I wanted. Slowly, and so that she could see my one free hand at all times, I knelt down to pick up coins. Slowly during this process I turned around to face her.As I stood with the now filled pouch, I offered it out to her. The dagger still faced me, now pointed at my stomach, but there was now a few inches of distance, which would make my next move a bit safer for me, albeit still incredibly dangerous. She withdrew her dagger slightly as she reached her off hand towards the bag. I dropped it, this time intentionally, and it fell with a soft thud. It did not open, as I’d tied it off before handing it out to the bandit. Her eyes went wide as, in a swift motion, I shoved my open hand at her face. I made contact on her left cheek and neck as a feeling of rumbling shot through my fingertips and palm. 

Were we not making direct contact, small bolts of lightning would have been seen escaping my open hand. As it was, I could feel the energy shoot through the woman’s face. She reeled back, dropping her dagger to put both hands over the fresh wound. Streaks of marred flesh were visible from between her fingers, her expression held fury. Yet she did not attack me. I glanced back, and saw that the bandits waiting further down the street were simply gone, as if they’d never been there at all. The woman gave me one last look of hatred before turning to a nearby alley. “There is your fucking answer. You owe me double!” 

From the shadows stepped a figure. He was of average height, lithe and toned, as one who fights with speed rather than brute strength. He clapped slowly, to which the woman used both hands to give him a rude gesture. Taking her hands away from her face, one could see my hand print made of crackling scars which continued to emanate from every edge. She was certainly permanently scarred, lest she use some powerful healing magic to remove it. Clearly the shock hadn’t killed her, though. 

The figure tossed her a pouch of gold coins, and when he spoke I knew immediately that I’d heard his voice somewhere. Or at least one very like it. “I’ll give you the other half at our next meeting. For now, see yourself tended to.” With that, the woman collected her dagger and scurried away. The man addressed me, now. “Althaea, I apologize for that, but I needed to see how you would react. I assure you that you were never in any danger, though it seems that my associate was.” 

I furrowed my brow, and eyed him curiously. How was he so familiar? I had never met this man before so far as I could remember, but it felt so certain that I had. He had long and elegantly done thick dark brown braids that hung loosely over his shoulders. Pointed ears stuck out between the braids, and their shape and length indicated he was most likely a High Elf. His eyes were large and discerning, giving the appearance that he could tell everything about a person from just a glance. His rich umber-toned skin was contrasted by a matching silver necklace and small hoop earrings he wore. His attire was, at a glance, exactly what one may expect in Port Peril. Practical, as comfortable as possible given the materials, and very simple. If one looked closer, however, they would notice some details that weren’t quite right. High quality thread used for some of the seams, professional level stitching at certain points, one or two of the patches were placed a little too perfectly to seem natural, and one of those patches was a more expensive fabric than anyone who patches their clothes rather than replacing them would use. This wasn’t an outfit, it was a costume. 

I focused for a moment and felt heat coursing through my veins as it coalesced into my palm. A small pinprick of light formed a few inches above my hand, then began to swirl and grow. Quickly it was the size of a marble, and then a small cannon ball. The light dissipated slightly, leaving behind only a swirling orb of flames. I glared at him and said nothing, waiting for a reason to not attempt to set him on fire. 

His overconfident smile faded away. He actually looked as if he were wounded somewhat, emotionally, by my offensive move. “Althaea, I’m… You really don’t recognize me, huh? That really makes this a lot more awkward than I thought it would be. Well, you’re very perceptive. Cunning too. So… Reason it out. Who am I? How do you know me?” 

My eyes narrowed. His words confirmed that I _did_ know him. But from where? The pieces all seemed to be there. Costume, shoulder-length braids, crime contacts, knows me, silver jewelry… A name fell from my lips, but I realized immediately that I had erred from the way he winced as if struck. He looked at me sadly, and I knew that it should have been obvious. That was his name no longer. “It’s been so long that I didn’t think about the fact that you wouldn’t know. It’s Eli now.” 

The energy in my palm evaporated, as did the flaming orb. “I’m sorry, Eli.” I felt a little bit of shame. While I hadn’t known he had transitioned, it was still uncomfortable to cause anyone that specific sort of discomfort. I’d never experienced it myself, but I’d known several people both in my youth and later in Drenchport who had. My twinge of guilt would not, however, be as strong as the pain of having one’s identity disrespected, even unintentionally. 

He nodded slightly, as if to accept my apology. Verbally moving back to the present situation, he gestured broadly. “I apologize for the unusual tactics, but I had a few suspicions I wanted to test surrounding your magic capabilities.” 

I narrowed my eyes, now filled with a small degree of anger. “So you had me attacked?” 

His hand shot up defensively, but his grin and his words didn’t match the action. “Yeah, pretty much.” I sighed, and he followed up with, “How about I get you a drink and an explanation.” 

I scowled a little bit, and looked him over thoroughly again. I never could stay mad at him, though. “Fine.” 

A quarter hour later we were sitting at a table in _The Anchor Point_ , each with a mug of whatever beer Trym had on tap. We sat across from one another, and I had taken special efforts to make sure we hadn’t been followed, as I still didn’t trust Eli just yet. We had been close friends for ten years, but his manner didn’t sit well with me. True, he’d always had connections with some of the criminal elements in Drenchport while he was there. It always seemed as if he had bigger ambitions on his mind, however, and it now appeared as if he had achieved them. Whatever they were. 

“Alright, Eli. Explain yourself.” I frowned, still yet to decide if I should be angry. 

He grinned, warm and genuine. I had never before found myself attracted to a man, but I was not blind to the fact that he was incredibly handsome. That had been true before, but his features had shifted. He wore it well. He seemed far more comfortable, as well. Confident. As my eyes shifted over him, he answered me. “Very well. I noticed you were in Port Peril a few days ago. Injured, no less. Still, I recall both your limited magical capabilities and your crafting abilities. I have a few… Let’s say _projects_ I’m working on that could use someone of your skill. Admittedly, I’m disappointed that you’ve not found a mage to apprentice under.” 

There were a lot of pieces of what he’d said that I wanted to unpack, but I had to start with the most glaring one. “How could you know I’ve not been trained?” Quietly I wondered if it were that obvious. 

“Dear, we used to practice together. I’ve seen that spell countless times.” He took a small drink, but his smile faded just a little. 

“Ok, fine. Everyone I’ve asked to teach me has either not been inclined to teach, or otherwise unable to.” I thought of Isaris, who claimed to be too old and impatient to teach me. Pursuit had tried, but they were using a wholly different kind of magic, and it hadn’t worked out. Everyone else aboard the _Song_ was either too inexperienced or unable to actually explain how they did what they did. In Drenchport, there had been very few mages that were even capable of teaching me, and most of them had just passed through. I hadn’t been willing to leave, and so my morning exercises had been all I’d had. I had seldom improved or learned anything new, but became ever more proficient in the few things I could do. 

He took another drink, then leaned back in his chair. “Right, so on to my proposal. I will teach you what I can, and in return you will assist me in a few of my projects. It’ll be like old times, until it isn’t.” 

“I don’t like how cryptic you’re being about that. Out with it, I need to know what I’m being asked to do for you.” His eyebrow raised, as he noticed that I didn’t say no outright. His grin was evidence that he had not only caught on to this, but approved. 

“A simple acquisition job, to start. I can’t give you too many details, obviously. But we would be… Let’s say, returning an artifact from whence it came.” 

I mulled it over for a minute or two while we sat quietly, listening to the music being played by a traveling minstrel looking to earn tonight’s meal. “I’m interested, but I will need to know all of the details before I can commit. Plus, in my current state I may not be able to meet some of the needs of whatever the job is. You’ll have to wait for me to heal.” 

“How about this: I will teach you some, and then give you some of the details. I’m not going to force you to do anything, but I want you to trust me. We should spend some time catching up, and I can help you learn more advanced magic than you currently know. Then, we talk details.” 

For a few moments, I thought about pretending to need time to think on it, but the truth was that I’d already made up my mind. I’d spend years of my life wishing to know higher magics, but not having access to them despite my best efforts. On top of that, I had long missed Eli. 

“I’m in.” 

* * *

Seldom did we experience dry spells, but they were known to happen on occasion. When first I boarded _The Siren’s Song_ was one such occasion, where there was even sunlight streaming in a few lazy beams between the clouds. The day was not bright by any means, but it was certainly less dim than the norm in Drenchport. Shandri had thrown her arms around me so tightly I thought she may never let go. Yet, eventually, she did. I boarded my new home, and my new life began. 

The first thing to do was to receive a tour, which Scarlet had assigned to the sailing master. They were tall and slim, with their slightly curved horns adding another few inches to their height. They had cloven hooves, a thin tail that went down to around their mid-calf, and a bright and cheery smile. When I say that their skin is pink, I mean truly pink. Similar to some of the lighter pastel-pinks that a few clients had requested I paint some of their custom furniture. They wore a white blouse with a deep rounded neckline, with sleeves that were just slightly shy of the elbow, as well as a pair of black tight-fitting pants. They also seemed to have a liking for jewelry, as they had several rings, two necklaces, several earrings, and even a thin golden band wrapped around one of their horns. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Pursuit, the sailing master of the ship. I handle navigations, maps, and oftentimes steering.” They extended a hand, which I shook. 

“I’m sorry, you said you were... in pursuit of something?” 

“No, no, you misunderstand. My _name_ is Pursuit.” Their smile didn’t break, and I took it that they had to explain this a lot. Tieflings were rare, though well known, so I was not familiar with their naming customs until they explained moments later. “You see, I’ve taken after a grand tradition of folk like me. For a variety of reasons, we tend to name ourselves after an ideal or a concept that we wish to embody. Personally, I like to think of myself as the best damned navigator in the Shackles, though there are others that would gladly refute that claim.” Their smile shifted to a smirk and they pretended to examine their nails. 

“Right. Well, I’m Althaea. I’m a carpenter.” I tried to offer a friendly smile, though it was difficult as uncomfortable as I was. The only other times I’d been on a ship out to sea were not wholly pleasant experiences, and it was difficult to not associate the two. 

“No surname, dear?” They grinned, and I knew how uncomfortable that question made me look as I shifted my eyes away. Pursuit’s posture changed to an apologetic one. “Oh, no, I’m sorry dear, I don’t have one either. Not one I would accept anymore, at least.” They offered their hands, palm up, and I accepted. “Hey, no one is going to care here. I tend to be the most playful, but I meant you no harm. My apologies.” 

I looked back at them and nodded. “Can we… just do the tour please?” 

Pursuit’s face shifted sadly for just a moment, but then went back to their casual demeanor. “Very well, time you should meet everyone, and vice versa.” 

I lost track of how long the tour took. I met most of the command staff as far as I could tell. First, a doting dwarven man named Oswallt who welcomed me warmly and offered me no fewer than six different ways he could help. Tana, a human cook with a prosthetic leg and a seeming determination to everything she did, greeted me and immediately started asking about dietary allergies and preferences. The master gunner was a shrewd halfling woman named Isaris, who had a long and thick braid of white hair. I was assured she wasn’t nearly as cold as she appeared outwardly, merely that she was bereft a sense of humor. Lastly, I was introduced to the Boatswain. 

They were a fairly young, being in their mid twenties, human named Rowan. They had short dark hair, and tan skin. They had small scars all over their hands, which I later gathered was due to a bit of clumsiness. I introduced myself, and they spent several moments sizing me up. 

“Well, as a carpenter, you’ll be serving under me. Just keep track of what supplies you use, and it should be fine. If you need to know where anything is, I know it.” They scoffed slightly then added, “Well, aside from Tana’s kitchen. I can’t seem to figure out how she organizes the damned thing.” They couldn’t help but grin after that. “Aside from that, though, nothing comes or goes from this ship without me knowing about it, unless it’s something you’ve got for yourself. When next we’re in port, I’ll take you to a lumber yard so we can stock up on whatever you’ll need.” 

We spent the next half hour discussing what exactly I’d be expected to do on the ship. Pursuit had seen themself off some time ago, and I was unsure of what to do with myself. “So, since there aren’t any repairs that are needed now, nor supplies with which to do them, what would you have me do?” 

“For now? Relax. Get to know us. Help us move supplies. Fight if we need to fight, train when we train, and so forth. Scarlet gave me the brief on your… unique situation. The goal here is for you to feel as at home here as possible.” His face got serious for a moment. “I do have to warn you, though. If disciplinary action is necessary, it’s my job to carry it out.” 

I smirked, unimpressed. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I mostly keep my head down. I’ll be here for a few months, do what I can, and then I’ll be on my way.” Rowan shrugged dismissively, but at the time I had meant it. 

The next several days were mostly uneventful. That night, Scarlet had me in her cabin for a private dinner so she could go over the ship’s articles of agreement. She assured me it was fairer than what was standard, though I had no reference point having never worked on a ship before. We covered what my cut of profits would be, how resources were allocated, and so forth. Finally, we came to a line of discussion I was genuinely more curious about. 

“As far as what jobs we actually take… It’s fairly eclectic. I try to keep the crew as safe as possible, but danger means coin. So, we tend to raid would-be blockade runners trying to sneak through the Shackles, we slay monsters, clear old ruins and caves and the like. Sometimes we transport high value targets or cargo. Occasionally, we steal something worthwhile.” Scarlet grinned, seemingly proud of herself. “One thing I will never do, however, is lie to you. Not about a job, at least. Not if I can help it. There are occasionally jobs we take that are lower profile, but if we aren’t going to be in contact with a port until after the job, there isn’t any sense in keeping it from the crew. Any questions?” 

I thought about it for a few moments, then looked her right in the eyes. “What’s our job now?” 

**Author's Note:**

> This has been adapted largely from an unfinished DnD campaign, and also from this post I made: 
> 
> https://dungeonqueering.tumblr.com/post/190446150902/ill-be-posting-updates-when-the-first-chapter
> 
> These characters absolutely have full character sheets in Dungeons and Dragons Fifth Edition that I will post at some point. A lot of the lore, i.e. The Shackles and such, are modified versions of the lore of the Inner Sea region in Pathfinder, but when I think about what is happening mechanically, I am absolutely using Dnd 5e.  
> I will be happy to answer any and all questions (that won't be major spoilers) either here or on Tumblr, and I appreciate every kind word greatly.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr under the same handle! :)  
> https://dungeonqueering.tumblr.com/post/190514701332/this-is-the-siren-song-of-love-which-i-might


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